What Happens in Russia
by 27hope
Summary: When Diggle disappears, Oliver and Felicity travel to Russia to track him down. But their trip is interrupted by the presence of Isabel Rochev, and things do not go as planned. What happens in Russia doesn't always stay in Russia...
1. Chapter 1

A/N - Hello! This was originally posted on a different site, but anthfan has twisted my arm (lovingly) to post it here and give this a shot, so here we go. I wrote this before 2x06 aired and it started as a drabble and grew into a monster. I hope you enjoy it as I enjoyed writing it!

Please let me know what you think...I LOVE reading your comments! Thanks! :)

It wasn't until the private jet touched down that Felicity's nerves started to get the best of her.

She worried her bottom lip between her teeth as the she glanced out the window and saw vibrant spires and bleak buildings in the distance. It was a gray, cloudy day, and she could tell without even stepping foot outside that it was cold.

Oliver caught her gaze from his seat next to hers and gave her a reassuring smile. Her eyes darted over to where Isabel Rochev sat, her legs crossed, hands folded in her lap, as she looked out her window.

This was _not_ how this trip was supposed to happen.

They were only supposed to be here under the pretense of setting up a meeting with some of the Russian counterparts to Queen Consolidated, in order to have an alibi while they searched for Diggle.

He'd disappeared three days ago and since then, her every waking hour - which was most of them - was spent trying to figure out where he was and if he'd gone willingly or if he'd been taken. At this point, they were leaning toward the latter and the knots that had woven into her stomach due to her constant worrying had led her to a diet of mainly crackers and coffee.

Finally, last night, by hacking the A.R.G.U.S. database, she'd found a conversation between Diggle and the agent he'd contacted a year ago about Deadshot. That agent - Lyla Anderson - had gone missing two days later, following a lead. And, now, Diggle was gone as well.

After a few more hours of searching, Felicity finally found the lead the agent had received. According to it, Deadshot was in Russia for a hit on a mob kingpin.

Oliver had immediately gone to his Bratva contacts in Starling City but they knew nothing about the hit or Deadshot being contracted by any of their associates.

Felicity had trouble believing that Diggle would take off without telling either of them - they'd come too far in this together. Then again, Oliver had shown his less than stellar record of following through with this threat the last time he was in town. While both men had put it behind them, she'd seen, first-hand, the struggle Diggle went through knowing his brother's killer was still on the loose - still killing people for a living. She knew it was never far from his mind, and she didn't like seeing him put his life on hold because of it.

Oliver shifted in his seat next to her, drawing her attention back to him and she met his gaze once more. The firm set of his jaw belied his outward facade of calmness. She could see the worry lines etched into his forehead, the look in his eyes that gave voice to his desperate desire to move and do something that would put his muscles to use and release some of the tension and unease.

He must have seen the concern in her own gaze because his features softened and he gave her a comforting uptick of his lips, signalling for her to trust him. Whether he was trying to convince himself or her that everything would be okay, she didn't know.

Felicity took a deep breath as the plane rolled to a stop and nodded her head resolutely.

They would find Diggle. They would somehow hide all of this from Isabel. And everything would be okay.

The pilot came over the speakers and relayed the temperature and forecast for the next few days before wishing Oliver a good day.

She grabbed her tablet and purse as Oliver rose and began to follow him toward the exit. The stairs had been lowered and the door held open for them by the staff member who'd been attending Oliver and Isabel during the flight.

Felicity surveyed her surroundings quickly - a habit she'd developed after working with Oliver and Diggle for almost a year. A black Mercedes awaited them on the tarmac, driver standing stoically by the door.

Oliver exited first, and Felicity was just about to followed when Isabel slipped in front of her at the last minute. The brown-haired woman raised a perfectly coifed eyebrow in her direction before taking the hand Oliver had originally held out for his assistant.

Felicity saw his head swivel towards the door the second Isabel's hand wrapped around his outstretched one. His brow furrowed and Felicity felt something flip in deep within her at the knowledge that Oliver knew her touch so keenly. She saw him clamp down on his jaw to keep from saying anything and glanced back to give her an apologetic look.

After Isabel found her way down the stairs, Oliver extended his hand back to help Felicity, and she accepted it gratefully. His large hand engulfed her and the warmth of his skin was a stark contrast to the icy wind that assaulted her the moment she stepped out of the jet. It whipped around her blue dress, causing goosebumps to appear on her her exposed legs and she suddenly wished she'd kept the long coat she'd thought about packing, and at the last minuted decided to leave at home.

Oliver gave her fingers a light squeeze before letting go, his hand settling near her lower back as they walked the short distance to the waiting car. Isabel had already climbed inside and Oliver wasted no time in helping Felicity inside and following after her.

She soon found that not having Diggle as their driver was odd and somehow unsettling. She could tell that Oliver felt the same way when his eyes kept flicking to the man occupying the driver's seat. His shoulders were tense - his entire demeanor on edge. This was Oliver in an unknown environment - not knowing what to expect around every turn. He was poised for action, as if waiting for something bad to happen.

If Isabel noticed Oliver's sudden unease, she said nothing. She had pulled out her phone once in the car and hadn't taken too much time to look up from it since they left the airport.

Felicity clasped her hands tightly in front of her to keep herself from reaching out and covering one of Oliver's tightly balled fists. She was able to catch his eye and give him a soft smile, relieved when he returned it, some of the tension slipping from his frame.

She gazed out the window, taking in the passing sights as the car wove in and out of Moscow traffic on the way back to their hotel.

Felicity had never been out of the country, much less Europe, and she marveled at the ornate onion-shaped domes in the distance. She could almost see where the old and new parts of the city met and she was fascinated at the way they blended together, sitting side-by-side. Buildings that had been around for centuries stood tall as brand new cars drove by on cobblestone streets.

After awhile she felt someone watching her and knew instantly it was Oliver. Turning her head, she caught his gaze and was surprised by the curiosity that swirled within the blue depths. She could see the questions and comments forming on his tongue, but he didn't speak, and one glance to the other side of the car told her why.

They weren't alone. He couldn't be himself. As much as he may have yearned to be in that moment.

The sound of his phone ringing pulled his gaze from hers, and she watched as he retrieved the phone from his pocket and frowned at the name on the screen.

She knew immediately it was Thea when he answered.

Oliver kept the conversation short, and, once again, Felicity wondered if it was because of who was in the car. She could tell Thea was discussing their mother's trial and some new development that only caused Oliver to run a hand over his face.

Telling Thea he'd call her later, he ended the call and re-pocketed the phone.

"Everything okay?" Isabel spoke up from her seat across from them.

Oliver's head snapped up and Felicity saw that he'd already adopted his amiable mask of polite businessman. "Fine. Just my sister wanting to know if we made it safely. She worries."

"Well, you did disappear for five months on her not too long ago," Isabel threw back. "I would say she has the right to worry."

Felicity felt a spike of anger rise within her and she bit her tongue to keep from speaking in his defense - regardless of the fact that she too had been hurt by his sudden departure. Oliver kept his face passive; his only tell the twitch of his jawline which Isabel couldn't see from her position.

"The past few months have been hard," he replied neutrally, and Felicity almost scoffed at what might have been the understatement of the year.

Felicity kept her eyes on Isabel as they pulled to a stop in front of an old, ornate building.

The driver turned off the car and rounded the car to pull open the door. Isabel exited first, and Felicity saw the moment Oliver's mask dropped once she was out of sight. Her hand flashed out to cover his arm, but she stopped herself short realizing they were still in a very public, very open area, and the driver was already motioning for Oliver to exit as well. Her hand dropped into the open space between them on the leather seats, and he took a deep breath before she watched him put the pieces of his wall back in place and climb from the safety of the car.

It was his hand that reached back inside for her, not the driver's, and she took that brief opportunity to apply a little extra supportive pressure to his fingers before she let go. His mask remained in place, but she saw the appreciation in his eyes and it was all she needed to know he understood.

A bellhop hurried out, gathering their bags and Oliver led them into the hotel. The manager met them at the door with a smile.

If Felicity had thought the outside had been ornate, the inside was fit for royalty. The arched ceilings gave way to detailed columns. Gold fixtures dotted the walls. Flat screened televisions lined one wall that led into what looked like sitting room - a fire roaring intently in a large marble hearth.

They were shown up to their rooms, and it wasn't until they reached the elevator that Felicity realized she had booked a suite for her and Oliver on his insistence. This wasn't supposed to be a business trip, and he'd wanted her close for whatever this mission entailed. Knowing the dangers present, she'd relented to the suite even if her stomach did weird things at the thought. They were partners, co-workers, friends, and something more and undefined that went past friendship but not into anything romantic in nature. Felicity was half-convinced he'd never see her in that light, but that didn't mean her own feelings and fantasies weren't very much alive and well in her heart.

She could no more deny how much he meant to her after he'd disappeared than she could deny that she loved computers or red wine.

He was ingrained in almost every part of her life, and when he was gone, she'd felt that missing hole that he'd left behind. The second they'd found him on the island, that hole had dissipated, his presence filling it and making her whole once more.

She was in. All in. And that more than anything scared her. Because her heart was already on the line, whether she wanted it to be or not.

Isabel and an assistant manager got off on the floor below theirs. He was already regaling her with information about all the amenities including having one of the best views to which she merely hummed.

Isabel looked to Oliver before stepping out of the elevator. "I saw your assistant sent out an email with the meeting time this afternoon. I'm going to catch up on some sleep. Can't waste time later having jet-lag."

Felicity wasn't surprised when Isabel spoke as if she wasn't even there, but that didn't mean the sting of it was any less. As soon as the door closed behind her and they were back on the elevator, Felicity let out an annoyed sigh. Oliver glanced at her from the corner of his eyes, but listened as the manager continued to speak of their amenities and how happy they were that Oliver had chosen their hotel once again.

Their suite was one floor up from Isabel's, and Felicity was slightly thankful for that. It meant there was less of a chance of the woman showing up at random times through the day or night. With her accompanying them on the trip, Felicity had already decided she would tell Oliver she was going to ask for another room and see if it could be nearby at least. They didn't need Isabel to get any more ammunition against Oliver or the company.

When the door was finally shut behind them, the manager scurrying off down the hallway after making sure there was nothing else they could possibly need, Felicity let her purse fall to the coffee table that sat in front of the large couch. Opposite the couch, a gaslit fire crackled softly in the hearth, and Felicity gave herself a moment to take in her surroundings.

She'd seen the pictures when she'd booked the room, but she wasn't prepared for the real thing. For a moment, she felt as if she'd stepped into a movie - or perhaps the white house. She could understand why this was called the Royal Suite.

The crown molding that trailed around the room was inlaid with gold. Two chandeliers hung from the inlaid ceiling, lighting up the living room with two plush royal blue couches and sitting chairs. A fully-stocked open bar stood in the corner of the room next to the baby grand piano. Across from the hearth, a large flat-screen television hung from the wall.

As she peered down one hallway, she saw it lead to a large meeting room with a table big enough to fit at least 12 people. Down another, a large mahogany desk sat in what looked to be an office space.

There were two other hallways and Felicity knew one of them led to the bedrooms, but she wasn't sure what the fourth one held at the end until she remembered reading something about a massage room in the room description.

Her mouth hung agape as she turned in a wide circle, taking it all in.

She turned to see Oliver pulling at his tie, loosening it as he walked towards the windows that looked out over the city. He stopped halfway there and frowned and when Felicity followed his gaze, she noticed their bags stacked near the hallway that lead to their rooms.

A sudden feeling of uncertainty flew through her, and her hand flitted to her face, pushing up her glasses in a nervous habit.

"I'm sorry," she blurted out, and Oliver turned looking at her in confusion. "When I booked the room, they asked if I wanted the valet person that usually came with it, but I figured you didn't want someone constantly poking around here. But I guess, you're probably used to that, even though I don't know what they would possibly do all day. I mean, when they listed off some of the services, I wasn't sure they were being serious until the person didn't laugh with me. I should have just asked you, but this is something an executive assistant should know how to do, and so I made a decision. Which now that Isabel is here, I should just get my own room anyway because Oliver Queen sharing a suite with his assistant is not the publicity you want or need. So I'll just call down and tell them I need a room, which is probably about a quarter of the size of this one and that will be just fine…"

She didn't realize she'd been pacing until Oliver was suddenly in her path and she bodily ran into him. Running into Oliver was like running into a brick wall - not that she'd know exactly what that was like - although she had run into her fair share of closed doors and , other objects. If it hadn't been for his hands reaching out with cat-like reflexes catching her elbows, she would have ended up sprawled on the floor.

Her hands flew to his chest to brace herself, and when she looked up she saw the corners of his mouth ticking upwards in a hint of a smile.

"Felicity," he said easily, and even though she'd regained her balance, he didn't let go of her arms.

"First of all, you are right. I don't want someone poking around here. You were right to decline the personal valet. I can handle putting my own clothes away - this time." She rolled her eyes when she heard the teasing tone in his voice at the last two words.

"Secondly, you are not getting another room. I need you nearby and this way I can keep an eye on you," he began and, at her glare, he added. "To keep you safe. I didn't want you eighteen floors down at Queen Consolidated and that's at our normal day job. There's no way I want you even one floor away from me when we're dealing with the Russian mob and a sniper who is known for his accuracy and poisoned bullets. You're staying here."

Felicity wanted to protest, but the desperate look in his eyes stopped her. They already had one member of their team missing. She could tell he was nearing the end of his rope. He needed her to stay close by - if nothing else for his own peace of mind.

She nodded her head, but couldn't help making one last protest. "If Isabel finds out, she'll think…"

"I really don't care what Ms. Rochev thinks," Oliver replied, exhaustion seeping into his voice.

She bristled, and took a step back, letting her hands fall from his chest. "Well, you may not, but I do. I already have enough gossip going around the QC water coolers, I don't need to add this to it!"

She didn't realize how loud her voice had become until Oliver raised his eyebrows and tilted his head to the side, studying her intently.

"What do you mean?" he asked, lines knitting together across his forehead.

Felicity sighed. "Come on, Oliver. You don't get plucked from the IT department to be the highly attractive CEO's Executive Assistant without rumors getting started on why you got the job in the first place…"

When he continued to look at her as if she was speaking another language, she realized he truly didn't know about any of the rumors flying around the office. Of course, who would talk about that in front of the boss?

"You may not care about your playboy reputation, but I don't want everyone thinking I slept my way into this position, which is hilarious in the first place because, to me, this isn't exactly a promotion," she said through gritted teeth.

Finally, she saw the understanding dawn in his eyes and they were immediately tempered with guilt.

"Felicity…"

The way his name spilled from his lips caused her heart to flip lightly, and she had to turn away to keep her emotions in check.

"It's fine, Oliver, just forget it. We need to find Digg. That's why we're here. Let me just go get my tablet from my bag and we can…"

His hand caught her arm as she began to move past him, and she turned, trying to ignore the heat that his touch sent trailing through her.

"No, first, you need to rest," he stated evenly, and she heard the tone in his voice that brooked no argument. "The jet-lag will hit you harder than you expect if you don't try and get some rest now. And I can't contact the Bratva until tonight so let's both get some sleep in the meantime."

Felicity was tired, but she hadn't been able to work at all during the plane ride and Digg had already been missing for two days. She didn't feel like they couldn't waste any more time.

As if he could see the wheels spinning in her head, he slid his hand down her arm and tangled his fingers with hers. "We won't be any good to him if we're exhausted. You didn't sleep on the plane- neither did I…"

She was about to open her mouth to argue with him some more but when she did, a yawn escaped her lips, betraying her.

Oliver simply lifted an eyebrow and looked at her in amusement.

"Fine," she grumbled, and let him pull her towards their rooms.

Releasing her hand, he grabbed her bag that lay on the ground in the hallway and carried it through the doorway into the opulent room, and setting it on a chair near the dresser.

Her eyes widened at the grandeur she was met with once again, and she shook her head, trying to remember what she was doing here.

A king size bed sat in the middle of the room, silver throw pillows decorating the plush duvet. A small round table sat in a corner near the windows, fresh flowers greeting her from a vase.

Gesturing towards one of the doors on the right side of the room, Oliver spoke. "The bathroom's through there if you need it."

Curiosity getting the better of her, she slipped past him and opened the door. A gasp left her lips as she took in the sprawling area. Black marble covered the floors. Two sinks, a shower, and a jacuzzi definitely big enough for two lined the walls. Gold-framed mirrors hung above the sinks inlaid with gold and white marble countertops. Two bath robes hung near the steps to the jacuzzi and she decided she would definitely be trying that out before they left.

She heard Oliver chuckle behind her and realized she'd said that last thought out loud. Shrugging her shoulders, she turned to look at him with a smile.

"As long as I'm going to be acting as your executive assistant, might as well enjoy some of the perks," she teased.

Oliver arched an eyebrow at her, and her eyes slammed shut when she realized exactly what she'd said and the implications that could be drawn from it.

"Not that I...Not those…" she sighed, and just shook her head.

As usual, Oliver said nothing, but his eyes twinkled in the soft lighting of the bathroom. Taking a deep breath, she walked by him, slipping back into her room before her thoughts combined Oliver, the bathroom, and perks of her job into a picture she knew she wouldn't be able to erase from her mind anytime soon.

"I'm going to make a few calls. I'll be right across the hall if you need anything." She frowned at his response.

"I thought you said you were going to get some sleep too," she asked, narrowing her eyes.

He gave her a pointed look which she returned. A silent battle of wills began and eventually she saw Oliver's shoulders sag slightly. "Fine. After the calls."

Her lips turned up at the corners - a gesture which he mimicked before exiting the room, pulling the door firmly closed behind him.

Felicity took the next few minutes to do some exploring, and unpacking. The closet was about four times the one she had at home and she stared at it for longer than she should have before hanging up her few dresses and skirts.

Slipping off her shoes, she climbed up into the large, plush bed. Sinking into pillows, she turned on her side, and tried to quiet the thoughts running rampant in her head so she could sleep.

It didn't work.

Every time she closed her eyes, she thought of something else she should be doing. The list of scans and research she'd wanted to start on the plane but couldn't because of Isabel's sudden addition to their trip taunted her. Diggle was missing and she was trying to sleep. He could be hurt or worse. How could she live with herself if something happened to him and she had been sleeping instead of using every possible second and resource to find him.

Those thoughts had her sitting up and pushing the few stray strands of hair out of her face. Slipping from the bed, she tiptoed to the door, listening for the sound of Oliver's voice before quietly opening it

The hallway and living room stood empty, and she smiled when she spotted her purse still sitting on the table in front of the large couch. Finding her tablet, she quickly typed in her password and pulled up the program she used to keep tabs on their trackers. The one Diggle supposedly wore in his shoe like she and Oliver hadn't been responding in Starling City. She hoped maybe it would magically start working here.

She held her breath as it tried to find the signal and then let out a aggravated noise when dots in twenty different locations popped up on her screen. The signal was being scrambled and bounced off of various cell towers in the surrounding area.

Pushing her glasses further up on her nose, she pulled her bottom lip into her mouth as she began tracing each individual signal. In the meantime, she brought up the facial recognition software she'd downloaded on to her tablet and began running through any of the cameras she could hack into to see if Diggle's face showed up.

Thirty minutes later, she was still no closer to finding Diggle and her eyelids were starting to droop. A long yawn escaped her lips and she let her eyes fall shut as she slumped against the back of the couch.

When she woke, Felicity frowned at the feeling of warmth surrounding her and a soft pillow under her head. Wrinkling her nose, she slowly opened her eyes to find herself tucked into the bed in her room.

Her phone sat on the bedside table and she reached for it, stretching as she did. When she saw it was two hours later, she bolted upright and scrubbed at her eyes, finding her glasses also missing.

Throwing back the covers, she padded out of the bedroom to find Oliver seated on the large couch where she distinctly remembered falling asleep.

In his hands, he held her tablet, staring at it intently.

"If you've messed up any of the searches that were running, you'll be sorry," Felicity mumbled, her voice still thick with sleep as she approached Oliver.

His eyes flew to hers, and she noted the twinkle in them that pulled a smile from her despite her displeasure at having lost so much time asleep.

"Do I sleep walk now or did I have help getting to my room because I distinctly remember falling asleep on the couch," she added, coming to a stop in front of Oliver who had changed into cargo pants and a pullover. The black sweater molded to his torso and arms deliciously and Felicity was reminded how much she loved Oliver in them.

He ran a hand over his neck and then tilted his head up to give her an amused glance before sighing heavily. "You were supposed to be sleeping in the first place," he replied in a slightly reprimanding tone.

Felicity just rolled her eyes and plopped down into the space next to him, taking the tablet from his hands.

"I couldn't...I had to do...something," she tried to explain, her voice strained to her own ears.

He sighed as he ran a hand through his already mussed hair and nodded. "Yeah, I couldn't really sleep either."

Felicity smiled in understanding and glanced at her tablet. Oliver had been staring at the red dots of all the locations from the tracker.

"His tracking signal is being scrambled," she sighed, and swiped the screen to check on her other search. "And so far nothing on the facial recognition scans from local surveillance cameras."

When she went to adjust her glasses and they weren't there, she realized they hadn't been on her bedside table as they usually were when she fell asleep. Then, she saw Oliver reach over to the table in front of them, and hand them to her.

"Thanks," she murmured, slipping them on and then returning her eyes to the screen.

"If we don't get any leads, how are we supposed to find him?" she asked worriedly as she set the tablet in her lap and rubbed her fingers over her temples. "He's been gone for too long without contact already."

She could hear the concern leaking into her voice but she didn't care.

Oliver shifted beside her. his arm brushing against hers. "I've got a call into my contacts here in the Bratva. I set up a meeting tonight at dusk. Hopefully, they'll be able to give me some information."

Felicity nodded, not trusting her voice to work as her emotions began to overwhelm her. Letting out a shaky breath, she glanced at the clock. It was nearly three, which meant they had an hour before they had to be at the company's headquarters for their meeting.

"You should go get ready," she prodded, never taking her eyes off her screen. "I'll keep searching."

She heard the growl he let out beside her. "I wasn't supposed to have to actually go to this meeting," he reminded her. "I should be out there looking for him."

"Well, we can't do anything about it now," Felicity stated, her annoyance also showing at the abrupt addition to their trip. "And if we're late, we'll hear about it. So go."

She practically shooed him off the couch before pursing her lips together and trying to make sense of the scattered tracking points once more.

After a few more minutes, she set her tablet to the side and returned to her room. One look in the mirror and she knew her make-up and hair had to be redone.

With a tired sigh, she grabbed her make-up bag and headed for the bathroom/ She didn't hesitate as she pulled open the door and walked in, momentarily forgetting that she shared this bathroom with Oliver. Her footsteps came to an abrupt halt when she looked up and spotted a shirtless Oliver dressed only in a pair of grey dress slacks. His shirt and tie hung on the door handle as he washed his hands in the sink.

When he looked up, his eyes met hers through the mirror and Felicity opened her mouth to apologize, but, for once, no words came out.

Her eyes traveled over his muscled back, flicking from tattoos to scars. It wasn't the first time she'd seen them by a long shot, but for some reason, in such an intimate setting as this, he took her breath away.

She was even more surprised when she returned her gaze to his and found his eyes a slightly darker shade of blue. The possible meaning of that reaction was too ridiculous of her to even consider and she shook her head, finally finding her words.

"Sorry," she blurted. "I forgot we shared this. I really need to knock, it's just well, it's not like I have to knock at home...or like you knock when you come out of the bathroom at the club half-dressed, not that I notice that a lot. Well, I do, but still, that's not what I meant and I really should just go and give you a chance to finish dressing…"

An slight smile tugged at his lips. "Felicity…"

She was halfway to the door, his voice freezing her in place. When she turned, there was something in his eyes that she couldn't quite place.

"It's fine. I can finish in my room," he said, and went to grab his shirt and tie.

"You can stay. I just need to touch up my make-up," she replied instantly without thinking, "This bathroom is big enough for five people. I think we can manage."

He regarded her for a minute before nodding his head and reaching for his shirt as she walked up to the second sink basin and began pulling things from her bag.

As much as she tried not to, her gaze kept wandering over to his side of the mirror as he slowly buttoned up his shirt and pulled the tie from the door knob, slipping it around his neck and easily knotting it to perfection.

The ease with which they shared the space in such a simple domestic nature was unexpected. And while, her eyes kept flicking over to him, she couldn't help the feeling of contentment it brought her.

The third time she did it, he caught her, their gazes locking for seconds in which she didn't breathe. The heat in his gaze was not lost on her as he pulled his tie through the last loop and pulled it tight.

Felicity felt her cheeks flush and looked back to her own reflection, surprised to find her own irises darker than normal. Trying to rein in her composure, she quickly retouched her lipstick, and when she looked over again, he was gone.

She frowned, wondering when he had left, only to have him reappear minutes later with his shirt tucked in and cuff links in hand. She watched him struggle for a few moments while she ran a brush through her hair, deciding to leave it down for now. After placing her brush and make-up back in her bag, she turned to him and plucked the cuff links out of his fingers, shooing his hands away, and ignoring the heat that sparked up her arms at the slight contact.

He didn't say a word, but she could feel his eyes on her as she easily slipped them through the holes. When she was done, she stepped back and smiled hesitantly up at him. Adjusting her glasses, she swiveled back towards the mirror before she could get lost in those eyes again.

There was so much in that gaze of his. They truly were windows to his soul when he wanted them to be - when he let you see. The heartache and pain she'd witnessed after Sara had reappeared in Starling City still haunted her thoughts - waking and sleeping. And as much as she wanted to wipe away every bad memory and moment he'd had to experience in the past, it had made him who he was in the present.

Now, if he could only see the rest of the man - the one underneath the pain and heartache and constant guilt that he clung to as if letting it go would leave him bereft of a place in this world.

Felicity knew he was scared to let all go of all the guilt and burdens he carried with him, but she also knew it was something he needed to do sooner rather than later, or risk being crushed under the weight of it all.

Her hands smoothed down the dress that she'd opted for instead of the now-wrinkled skirt she'd worn on the plane. It was one of her favorites. A brilliant blue with gold flecks woven into the fabric in a pattern of a city skyline. She still wasn't quite used to the new wardrobe being an Executive Assistant warranted, and half the time she felt overdressed. This outfit, however, was an exception, and she'd loved if from the moment she'd seen it in the store.

She didn't realize Oliver was still standing there until he cleared his throat. Her eyes flew to his and she saw the genuine warmth radiating from them.

"You look fine," he murmured. "Stop worrying."

A smile lit her face as the butterflies began to dance in her stomach at the compliment, and she nodded in thanks.

"You still need your coat," she reminded him, wanting the attention off herself and back in safe territory.

They were on the elevator ten minutes later, and right on time as they walked into the lobby. Of course, Isabel was already waiting for them, her eyes unimpressed even though they weren't even a few seconds late.

She gave them an unimpressed look as she rose from her seat, pulling on her coat as they approached.

Felicity looked down, realizing she'd only managed to grab her sweater, and remembered how cold it had been when they'd stepped out of the plane.

Before she could ask Oliver if she could run back up to the suite to get her coat, one of the managers crossed to them, stopping in front of her.

A long coat, lined with what looked like satin was draped over his arms. With a flourish, he held it open for her, and she looked between the man and Oliver, brow knitted in confusion.

"That's not mine…" she began, but Oliver took the coat from the manager's hands and gave her a warm look.

"It is now," he told her softly, slipping it on over her shoulders.

Felicity stood speechless as she looked down at the beautiful blue coat. She shook her head in wonder and was about to say something to Oliver when Isabel cleared her throat startling Felicity. Taking a deep breath, she managed to school her features before she turned towards the woman whose face seemed in a perpetual frown.

"Are we ready?" she asked, voice laced with annoyance. "Or are we going to be late because some people did not come prepared for the weather?"

She saw Oliver give Isabel a quick glare. He then slipped his congenial mask into place and smiled widely at the manager, slipping him a tip before turning back to Isabel. Oliver motioned them towards the door with one hand, while the other came to hover near Felicity's lower back. Once Isabel was turned away from them, Oliver leaned down to whisper in her ear.

"You kept mumbling about whether or not you should have packed it all the way to the airport, and you were cold when you got off the plane, I could feel you shaking…" he explained, and she couldn't suppress the warmth that filled her or the shiver that ran down her spine when his breath hit the sensitive skin of her neck.

"Thank you," she replied softly as they walked through the doors held open wide by two doormen who nodded their head in greeting to them. "But this is too much...it's…"

"It's not, and you need it." He stopped her, leaving no room for any more arguments before leading her to the waiting car.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N - Thank you so much for all the follows, favorites, and reviews! It's a nice welcome to the site. I'm sorry it took a few more days than I thought to get this chapter up, but here it is. Please let me know what you think - I love to hear your favorite parts, etc. Thanks again!

The drive to the Moscow office was filled with tense silence, and the meeting lasted two long hours - much to both Oliver and Felicity's chagrin. By the time they found themselves back in their suite, the sun was beginning to set as long shadows fell across the city.

Upon entering the door, she kicked her shoes off almost immediately, her feet protesting from the new heels she'd worn. Her tablet was already in hand, and she was talking at a rapid pace about the information she had gathered from her various searches - which wasn't as much as she was hoping.

"So when are we meeting with your contacts, or is it more of a 'whenever you show up' kind of thing. Digg usually takes care of this with you. Nothing's changed with the tracking device and none of the algorithms I've tried so far have been able to unscramble the signal," she relayed with a heavy sigh and a hand to her forehead trying to rub away the ache that had started as she'd sat in on a meeting of numbers and figures.

"You're _not_ coming with me," Oliver interrupted abruptly from behind her, and she swiveled on the spot.

"What are you talking about?" she asked carefully, eyes narrowing, although she had a sinking suspicion of exactly how this conversation was going to go.

His eyes flashed as he turned to her, his fingers tugging at his tie, loosening it easily.

"It's too dangerous, Felicity. I'll go alone and call you if I get any information."

Felicity bristled as he turned away from her and headed for the bar. There was no way she was letting him go somewhere without her when he had no other back up and no communications system.

They'd already lost Diggle and precious time could be wasted if he had to come all the way back to the hotel.

She wasn't naive. She knew the Bratva were a dangerous organization. She'd done her homework and listened intently when Digg had told her about the first time he'd gone with Oliver to a meeting. They'd made Oliver prove his loyalty by killing a man. And while she knew Oliver had used one of his many super secret tricks he'd learned on the island, the story alone was enough to send shivers down her spine. Their reputation far preceded them, but somehow Oliver had become a captain and regardless of her fears of the organization as a whole, she trusted him with her life.

They were a team. She was as much a part of this team as Diggle, and he was treating her like she wasn't. While she might not have the combat experience that they did, she was still a valuable member of the team and she could hold her own as she'd proven on various occasions - such as walking into underground casinos and being bait for a serial killer - not to mention helping to disarm a seismic device that could level half a city and jumping out of an airplane onto an island whose name literally meant "Purgatory." She knew the risks and she was willing to take them - especially when one of their own was in danger.

She had to jog to catch up with him, but she was able to cut him off before he got to his room, her hair whipping behind her as she halted his progress. Her sudden appearance caused him to stop abruptly, and she silently marveled at his body control when he kept himself from toppling over her.

"If you think I'm just going to sit here and wait while Diggle is out there in trouble, you couldn't _be_ more wrong," she told him evenly, her voice rising with each word. "We are a team. You and Diggle always go to the Bratva together. I'm part of this team too. What if something happens? I'll be stuck here not knowing if you are okay or what's going on with Ms. Rochev breathing down my neck about my inability to keep track of you, and your disappearing tendencies. No, I'm going."

Felicity saw the way his jaw tightened as he took one step closer to her, closing the remaining inches between them, his shirt rubbing against her arm. "It's too dangerous."

"I've been in dangerous situations before, Oliver," she retorted evenly, her fingers clutching her tablet tightly. "How is this any different?"

"We're talking about the Russian mob, Felicity," he tried to reason, his voice rising with each word.

She shook her head, refusing to back down. "You let me be bait for a serial killer and walk into an underground casino with mob connections. I see no difference here."

"There is a difference," he bit out, and she could feel the tension drifting off of him in waves. "I don't have Digg or any back up. If anything happened…"

"You didn't have Digg at the casino either," she pointed out and he leveled her with a glare.

She knew she was going to have to give something, or he wasn't going to budge.

"I'll stay in the car," she offered, tilting her head to the side and holding his gaze. "But I'm going."

Their eyes locked in a silent battle for what seemed like ages before he sighed heavily.

"Fine," he said, running a hand through his hair. "But no matter what happens. You stay in the car."

Felicity swallowed in apprehension, but nodded her head.

They looked as if they were simply headed to a nice, working dinner as they exited the hotel, the black Mercedes once again waiting for them under the carport. Oliver stepped up to the driver and whispered a few words to him before the man nodded with a small smile and walked away.

Felicity frowned as Oliver helped her into the front seat of the car, eyes narrowing at him in suspicion.

It wasn't until they were pulling out onto the streets of Moscow that she voiced her question.

"What did you tell the driver to get him to let you take the car on your own?"

Her eyes caught the way his face pinched at her question and she had a feeling she wasn't going to like his response.

"Just remember that you wanted to come along," Oliver began and she leveled him with a glare worthy of the Arrow's. He sighed before responding, "Might have said something about wanting to show you some of the sights...alone…"

The implication in his voice and the way the timbre changed, had Felicity gasping. "Oliver Queen!"

He had the decency to look at least a little chagrined. "We needed the car to ourselves," Oliver tried to explain, "And like you said, my reputation precedes me…"

"And like_ I_ said, I don't need more gossip about mine," she replied, sinking back into the seat.

"He won't tell anyone," he said with authority. "He would lose his job. Discretion is par for the course."

Felicity let out a huff of air, and crossed her arms. "Isabel already thinks we're sleeping together. Why not add the rest of the hotel staff to that list?"

Her mumbled words had Oliver turning to her with an upticked brow. But she just shook her head, not wanting to have that conversation again, and turned to look out the window.

Lights lit up the colorful spires and onion domes as they drove, dusk fully upon the city.

Oliver began to point out important buildings and places to her, and she let herself relax as she listened to the sound of his voice drifting through the darkened space.

His stories stopped abruptly when they turned down a more deserted road and headed into an older-looking district of the city. Men in heavy coats lingered on street corners in front of abandoned store fronts. She could see them eyeing the expensive Mercedes that drove through their streets so late in the evening.

Felicity shifted in her seat, clamping down on the uneasy feeling settling into her stomach.

When they pulled to a stop in front of what looked like a row of old factories, Oliver let out a long breath before turning to her.

She was surprised when he grasped her hand, fingers curling around her wrist. "You stay in the car. You keep the doors locked. And if anything happens, you run."

"Oliver…" Her voice was shakier than she would have liked, betraying her desire to convey her composure in the face of the fear trickling down her spine.

"No, promise me," he whispered vehemently and she could only nod her head in response to the pleading look in his eyes.

"This shouldn't take too long," he said, voice returning to normal as he reached for the door handle.

Her hand shot out, grasping his arm before he could push the door open. "Be careful," she murmured, searching his face in the dim light.

His eyes held hers for the briefest of moments before he nodded, opening the car door and stepping out.

She locked it quickly behind him, and he didn't move forward until he heard them click into place.

The man walking away from her was every inch the Arrow and not Oliver Queen. His posture, the way he carried himself told her he was on full alert. Confidence oozed out of him, his steps sure and quick. He stuck to the shadows until coming to a door and knocking. She watched with baited breath as it was opened and he disappeared behind it.

The minutes ticked by slowly. She hated not having the comms where she could hear everything going on and be in contact with Oliver at all times. As it was, she just had to sit and wait, and the longer she waited, the higher her anxiety and fear skyrocketed.

Turning on her tablet, she brought up the tracker on Oliver's phone, just to ease some of her worry. When she saw the red dot that signified his device in the building in front of her, she let out a sigh.

But before she could flip back to the scans she'd been running, there was a resounding click and Felicity eyes flew up just in time to see two men standing outside the car, leering smiles on their faces as they yanked the door open.

She screamed, and threw herself across the console trying to get away from the hands that immediately began pulling at her legs and arms. Her tablet slipped from her lap to the floor as she reached for the steering wheel, trying to get to the horn to alert Oliver, but the men were too strong.

One hand wrapped in her hair and yanked hard, she let out a cry of pain as they bodily pulled her from the car.

Her legs flailed out, searching for the weak spots that Oliver and Digg had taught her to aim for in her training. When she heard the safety of a gun clicking off, cold metal being pushed against her temple, ice cold fear darted through her.

Freezing, her heart jumped into her throat as tears pricked her eyes.

The roar of blood pounding through her ears rose steadily and she wished she could yell Oliver's name but a hand clamped down over her mouth and she was hauled back into a firm body.

Hands roamed over her, and she tried to twist away from them, but the metal pressed harder against her head. "If you don't stop struggling, you're going to lose your pretty little head," came a deep voice with a thick Russian accent. "And that would be such a shame."

A hand traveled over the front of her stomach, splaying against her abdomen and she felt bile rise in her throat at the foreign touch. Slamming her eyes shut, she tried to think of Oliver and Diggle and steel herself against the fear that threatened to paralyze her.

Knowing she couldn't let these men see her break, she fought back the tears pooling in her eyes, and tried to calm her furiously beating heart.

The man holding her, lifted her feet off the ground, and practically carried her through the alleyway, toward the building that Oliver had entered. A brief flare of hope rose within her at this knowledge.

The building was dark and damp, but she could make out the machines of the old textile factory. The smell of oil and something dank and unsettling filled her nostrils, but she didn't have time to dwell on it before the man who was holding her pushed forward, his hand inching higher on her body. She flinched and she heard a low, dangerous chuckle in her ear that made her stomach churn.

They headed for the back of the building where a dim light emanated from and she guessed the main offices were housed. As they approached, she heard voices filter through the air and she recognized the low timbre of one of them.

As they walked, she took in her surroundings, eyes darting to possible exit routes as Diggle had drilled into her head. She saw two towards the back besides the one they'd come from and noted them carefully. Oliver's words rang in her mind. _ If anything happens, you run._

Given the chance, she'd do just that even though she would struggle doing it without him.

When they rounded the corner, Felicity almost let out a cry of relief at seeing Oliver standing ten feet in front of her with his back to them. He was conversing fluently in Russian and Felicity wanted to take the moment to relish the sound of his deep voice speaking a different language with such ease but she could feel the cold metal against her temple again and tried not to let out the whimper that was rising within her throat.

Her captor spoke up then, calling out in Russian to the man Oliver was talking to, interrupting with almost a gleeful tone.

Oliver pivoted almost immediately and her eyes locked with his as his frame stilled completely. She saw the split-second of fear and anger that flashed through his eyes before his mask was back in place and he regarded the man who held her with a steely gaze.

His voice was low, but commanding when he spoke and it sent spires of something twirling through her despite the situation.

She wished she could understand what exactly he was saying, but there was no doubt from his tone that he was deadly serious. He repeated a phrase, this time louder and the barrel of the gun disappeared from her forehead.

A small gasp of relief left her lips, which were still covered by the large man's hand. Oliver's eyes hardened, his gaze never leaving the man who held her.

Her captor spoke, and she could almost hear the smile in his voice as his hand that held her to him began to move upwards. She felt him turn his head into her hair and squeezed her eyes shut as his fingers ghosted under her breast.

Felicity squirmed, throwing her head to the side, trying to get away from him and his curious hands, but he just held her tighter. She felt lips hover over her throat and a cry tore from deep within her.

Oliver's voice thundered around them. And then faster than she could open her eyes, she was being yanked away from the man who'd held her captive and pulled into strong, familiar arms.

Oliver's scent surrounded her and she fell against him with a gasping sob. She could feel the tension that ran throughout his body, even as his arm came up and around her possessively. Tucking her head into his neck, she took a few deep, even breaths before regaining enough control of her emotions that she could look up.

His eyes found hers, and the look in them pleaded with her to go along with whatever he was about to do. She gave him a small smile, and then his free hand wove into the strands of her hair and his thumb caressed the underside of her jaw.

She sucked in a deep breath as his face drew closer to hers, lips grazing her mouth and pulling the air from her lungs.

When he pulled back and turned to the other men, she looked as well, finding the scrutinizing faces that stood in front of them, including the man who she assumed was the other captain he'd been talking with before they'd been interrupted.

The two men who'd found her were off to the side, anger blazing in their eyes and arms crossed.

Oliver's voice was calm but there was a hint of something else - something deeper and primal.

The other captain spoke and Oliver shifted, his hands suddenly all over her, one arm banded tightly around her waist and the other shifting down through her hair and over her collarbone. Despite the situation, his touches were leaving little trails of heat in their wake and she suddenly felt even more unbalanced.

When one of his hands came to rest just over her heart as it curved around her shoulders, so close to the edge of her dress, his fingers tracing circular patterns into the skin, she took in a deep, halting breath.

The captain suddenly smiled and then laughed, and Oliver tucked her against him once more, his arms a protective shield around her. He turned his face toward hers once more and their eyes met before his nose and mouth ghosted over the side of her cheek and her mind went blessedly blank as she fought the desire to turn her head and meet his mouth. The gentlest pressure from earlier hadn't been enough. She ached to feel his mouth fully pressed against hers - taking and giving with fervor.

Something was going on here - a battle of dominance or wills. Oliver was most definitely playing a part. There was no way he'd be touching her like that otherwise. She knew this and yet she couldn't ignore the feelings rising within her. She couldn't help thinking that it wasn't all just a ruse.

His muscles were still bunched and coiled for action under her fingertips. The tight set of his jaw indicated he was close to his breaking point.

A few more words were exchanged, and then Oliver started to lead her out of the building, his arms still firmly around her, holding her to him. When they passed the men who had brought her in, she pressed closer to him, the memory of their hands on her body still fresh in her mind. His embrace tightened and she knew if she turned her head, he'd be giving the men one of his most dangerous looks.

Oliver didn't let go of her until they reached the car. Pulling open the door, he kept her steady as she sank down onto the seat she'd been violently taken from moments earlier. Her hands trembled as she tried to buckle her seatbelt, and it took her four tries before she heard it click into place.

Crossing quickly to the other side, Oliver slid in, his hand reaching across and tangling with one of hers immediately. Starting the car, he pulled away from the dark alley, and it wasn't until they were back on the main roads that she let out a halting breath.

"Are you okay?" he asked gruffly, his eyes glancing at her every few seconds as he drove.

She let out another shaky sigh, and nodded. "Yeah."

Even as she said the words, she felt the strangled sob that rose unbidden in her throat and squeezed his hand tightly.

"What happened?" he ground out, and she could see his knuckles turning white as he gripped the steering wheel.

"I...I don't know. I stayed in the car. I waited for you. I was checking the tracking devices to make sure you were still there and they came out of nowhere...I tried to get away...to fight them off, but then there was the gun and I just...I didn't…"

Her words trailed off as she fought for breath between her gasping sobs. Pressing her eyes shut, she took deep steadying breaths until the tears were no longer threatening to fall and the burning in her chest had subsided.

Oliver hand was clamped tightly around hers and she knew he was seconds from stopping the car to make sure she was okay, so she spoke up to reassure him.

"I'm okay. You got us out of there. That's all that matters," she whispered, voice raw with emotion.

The defeated sigh that fell from the Oliver's lips was the only sound either made for the rest of the trip back to the hotel, but his hand never left hers.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N - Thank you again to everyone who reviewed! What a lovely welcome to the site! I truly appreciate you guys reading and commenting and favoriting the story! For those of you who wanted some explanation to the events that happened in the last chapter with the Bratva, hopefully this chapter will provide that! As always, please let me know what you think! I love to hear your comments and thoughts! Thanks again! :)

By the time they reached their suite, Felicity could think of nothing else besides getting out of the clothes she wore and into the shower. The feeling of those men's hands on her body seemed burned into her skin and she desperately needed to try and wash those sensations away.

She'd discarded her purse and sweater by the time she was halfway across the living room area, heading to the hallway that led to the bedrooms. Her hands scrabbled in the satiny fabric of her dress, trying to reach the zipper that seemed just out her reach. The trembling didn't help and a strangled sob was working it's way up from her chest when warm, steady hands closed around hers and stilled them.

Pulling her hands away from the zipper, Oliver gently undid the clasp at the top and slowly slid it down.

The cool air hit her overheated flesh and goosebumps rose on her skin. The warmth of his fingers seeped through the thin material and she was surprised to find that his touch seemed to make her forget the rougher hands of the Bratva men.

Respecting her privacy, he held the bottom part of her dress shut until she could reach behind and grasp it herself, turning with a deep breath.

"Thank you," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion, and she saw the deep concern in his eyes.

"Go...take a shower, change," he whispered and she was taken aback at the softness in his voice.

His hand reached towards her as if to cup her face but dropped to her shoulder instead, giving it a gentle squeeze, and she couldn't stop the tear that slipped down her cheek.

Guilt flashed through his blue eyes as he tracked the tear down her face. She bit her bottom lip and nodded before turning and quickly walking to her room, not stopping until she was in the huge bathroom.

The dress fell to her feet in a puddle on the floor. She picked it up and stared at it. She'd loved it the first time she'd spotted it in a little boutique she sometimes passed on her way to her favorite coffee shop right around the corner from her apartment. But now all she saw when she looked at the blue material was the feeling of being grabbed and dragged from the car, hands traveling unwanted all over her and the cold metal of a gun barrel held at her head. A shiver ran through her from her hair to her toes and she walked over and dropped the garment into the silver-plated trash can, biting back the tears threatening to spill down her cheeks.

The jacuzzi looked too inviting to pass up, and she quickly read the directions before turning it on and filling it.

She scrubbed the make-up from her face as she waited, the washcloth fluffier than most of her robes at home. As she stared at herself in the mirror, she saw the blossom of bruises beginning to form on her upper arms.

Gulping air into her lungs, she turned abruptly from her tear-streaked reflection and tried to fight off the tide of emotions rising within her.

Skimming out of her underwear, she climbed the granite stairs and slipped into the jacuzzi. The moment her muscles were finally surrounded by the heated water and the steady pulse of jets, they began to relax and ease. Leaning back, she closed her eyes, letting the warmth of the water wash away the memories of the night.

The next thing she knew, a voice was gently calling her name. It was warm and soothing and she turned her face towards the sound and hummed in response.

"Hey," the voice breathed, right next to her head, and she realized it was Oliver.

Her eyes flew open and she almost jerked up, but a warm hand on her bare shoulder steadied her and kept her under the cover of the jets and water. His eyes were firmly planted on her face, but she could see the slight twitch of his jaw.

"Oliver," she gasped, "What are you doing?"

"You've been in here for 45 minutes," he tried to explain, pupils wide as his spoke. "I was worried…"

Lifting her hands out of the water, she noticed her fingers had started to wrinkle and she shook her head.

"I didn't realize…"

Her voice was off and she took a deep breath and blew it out. Her emotions were ragged and fraying at the edges; her control slipping at being in such an intimate setting with Oliver staring at her with such concern. His hand began to pull away from her shoulder and she thought he was going to removed it completely but instead, he brushed a few stray hairs away from her face, his thumb ghosting over the very place the gun had been held to her temple.

As if his touch could somehow erase that memory, she leaned into his hand, turning her head towards him as her eyes drifted shut.

She heard him release a short breath. Then his thumb moved again and she realized he knew exactly what he was doing and where he was touching her. With circular motions, he gently eased away those memories replacing them with feelings of heat and comfort - the calloused pad of his finger sending tendrils of warmth and healing throughout her body.

Almost out of habit, Felicity reached up and grasped on to his wrist, never opening her eyes - scared of what he might see if she did. Her fingers curled around his skin, thumb finding his pulse point and noticing the slightly elevated rate. She felt him still for a moment before his hand dropped from her forehead and gentle fingers skimmed up her forearm. Surprised, her eyes flew open and she saw the unhidden concern and guilt splashed over his face. His brows knitted together in pain as he traced his fingers over her arm.

Looking down, she saw what had him so upset. Bruises, in the form of handprints, dotted her arms and she let out a slight gasp. She'd almost forgotten about the men's hard grip as he dragged her from the car.

Oliver's fingers ran up and down the mottled area and she felt the effect his touch was having upon her deep in her belly. Her eyes lifted to his face once more and she noted that the darkness in his eyes had only grown.

Lifting her other hand from the water, she trapped his fingers within her own. His gaze locked on hers, blue eyes heavy with yet another burden he was adding to his heart.

"Don't start with that," she told him sternly, her voice steadier than even she expected. "This wasn't your fault. You didn't do this."

"I didn't stop it either," he said softly, the words heavy in the air between them.

"it was my choice," she replied, "And I would do it again. Because we're a team and we work together."

He opened his mouth to protest, but Felicity shook her head. "You did stop them. You kept them from whatever they were going to do and that's what matters. I'm okay."

Her voice broke on those last two words and she watched as Oliver's head fell forward bring it dangerously close to her own.

"I'm okay and I'm safe because of you."

He inhaled deeply at that and his fingers tightened around hers.

She waited until he had his emotions in check and raised his head and then she gave him a soft smile.

He searched her face, eyes roving everywhere at once before placing his other hand on her shoulder.

"I ordered us something to eat. You should get out and dried off. It'll be here soon."

As if on cue, they heard a loud knock followed by a doorbell. Felicity frowned, not realizing doorbells even existed in hotels - but she guessed for a suite this size and grandeur, a doorbell was needed.

With one more glance in her direction, Oliver let his fingers slip from beneath hers as he rose and headed towards the door to his room.

As he was leaving, Felicity saw him frown when he walked by the trash can. With a quick tug, he held up her dress and glanced back at her. The same dress she'd loved so much but now only held memories she wanted to forget.

"I don't want it anymore," she whispered brokenly and Oliver blew out a short breath as if kicked in the gut and then nodded before letting it drop back into the trash, hurrying through her door as the knocking grew more persistent.

Once he was gone, she climbed out of the jacuzzi and toweled herself off before wrapping the plush material around her body.

Padding into her room, she opened her bag and pulled out a pair of leggings and the shirt she usually slept in.

Her body much more relaxed, she returned to the bathroom to fix her hair and brush her teeth. Without the warmth of the jacuzzi water, she shivered in the large, empty bathroom. As she rinsed her mouth, her eyes caught sight of Oliver's black pullover that he'd left in there from earlier today. She only hesitated for a moment, before grabbing it and slipping it on over her t-shirt, Oliver's scent engulfing her.

The sleeves hung past her hands and she twisted her fingers in the soft fabric as she walked back into the main rooms.

She heard Oliver at the door talking to someone before he suddenly reappeared alone.

His eyes cut over her sharply, and she reached up and readjusted her glasses before opening her mouth to explain.

The words died in her throat as she saw the look of what she could only describe as possessiveness flash in his blue eyes. The heat curled within her sharply as he took a deep breath and let it out through his nose.

"Food's on the table," he finally said, his voice low, washing over her with a warmth she wasn't expecting.

The food looked amazing, but Felicity hardly felt hungry. She picked at what was on her plate until Oliver reached across and laid a hand at her wrist.

Felicity sucked in a sharp breath at the unexpected contact before looking up at him.

"You need to eat," he said worriedly.

His fingers rubbed against the sensitive skin of her wrist where she'd pulled back the sleeve of his pullover.

When she nodded, he released her hand and returned to eating his own food.

"I set up a search based on the information I got tonight," his voice eventually cut through the silence. "I'll know more tomorrow after they've talked to their contacts. But Deadshot is definitely in town. They just don't know where yet."

Felicity felt as if she'd been punched in the stomach. Diggle. She'd completely forgotten about everything. After they'd returned to the hotel, she was so preoccupied by getting out of those clothes and cleaning any remnants from the night off her body, she'd lost sight of their actual reason for going to the Bratva in the first place.

"Oh!" Felicity gasped, her chair scraping across the wooden floor as she stood. "I completely forgot. How could I forget? What is wrong with me? Diggle. We've lost so much time! I should have been running those searches and looking for him. What if something horrible has happened to him and I was sitting in the bathtub and now I'm eating this amazing dinner and Digg, he's just out there…"

In the middle of her rant, she'd rounded the table and started for her bag where she figured her tablet should be - she vaguely remembered Oliver grabbing it off the floor of the car and sticking it in there before they came up to the suite.

Oliver was in front of her before she could get past him - his body blocking her from her destination. Her hands landed solidly on his chest, ready to push him out of her way until she tried and got absolutely nowhere.

Warm fingers closed over hers where they rested on his chest and he squeezed them to get her attention.

Her eyes flew to his and waited for him to move so she could start working, but he didn't. Instead, he just looked at her with a mixture of concern and calmness.

"Felicity." His voice was loud and she realized it wasn't the first time he'd said it. "Trust me. There's nothing we can do yet. All I did was start a facial recognition search for Deadshot like you did for Diggle. The rest of the information should come tomorrow. Diggle will be fine. We'll find him."

Pressing her eyes shut, she took a deep breath and let his words wash over her before finally nodding.

"Okay," she whispered, and then she felt his hands on her shoulders, turning her around and leading her back to her chair.

"Now, finish eating," he commanded gently.

The rest of dinner was spent in comfortable silence, and Felicity excused herself to the bathroom when they were done.

When she returned, she found Oliver on one of the expansive couches, staring out of the large window, the city lights glittering in the night.

His brows were drawn together in contemplation. She knew that face. It was his over-thinking things and dwelling-on-the-past-face.

With quiet steps, she came around the back of the couch and sank down on the cushions next to him, leaving enough room in between them so they weren't touching. Their earlier charged moments in the bathroom were still fresh in her mind and Felicity knew they were walking a very thin line. She wasn't sure either of them was ready to cross it just yet. Or if he even _wanted_ to cross it.

She worried her bottom lip between her teeth for a moment before breaking the silence and pulling him from his thoughts, asking him a question she'd been wondering since they'd left the factory that night.

"What happened tonight?"

She hated how small her voice sounded, but she was unsure of how to broach this subject and finally decided the only way to do it was head on.

Oliver blinked, turning his head to look at her before letting out a long sigh. He tipped his head back and leaned it against the couch, his hands tightening against the sweatpants he'd changed into at some point in the evening.

She didn't have to explain any more. She knew he understood what she was asking.

"When they brought you in," he began and she saw his adam's apple bob up and down at the memory. She felt a shiver run through her as well.

"When they brought you in, they were talking about finding a prize...something they could _have_ - as if you were a piece of furniture," Oliver explained, his voice tight and Felicity felt her stomach drop at the thought. "Within the Bratva, actions speak louder than words. I knew I had to make them believe you were already spoken for - that you were…imine."

He almost growled the last word and Felicity's stomach swooped, a mixture of the confirmation of what they had wanted from her and Oliver's deep voice as he said that word.

"Just saying you were with me wouldn't be enough. They wanted proof - action. It's why I had to...do what I did."

Oliver's head finally lifted from the back of the couch and he turned dark blue eyes on her. A small gasp left her lips and she nodded in understanding, trying to tell him without words that she didn't fault him for what he'd done. She was actually quite thankful.

"Thank you," she finally whispered, and Oliver shook his head.

But before he could launch into another guilt-fest, she reached out her hand and placed it over his chest where she knew the Bratva tattoo was inked into his skin. Light fingers traced the shape she'd long ago memorized - along with the rest of the tattoos and scars that littered his torso.

Oliver sucked in a deep breath at her touch, eventually reaching a hand up and clasping hers, halting her movement.

Feeling those sudden sparks shoot through her, she quickly pulled her hand away, knowing if she kept it there, under his touch, she might do something stupid.

Her hands shook as she raised them to brush the unkempt strands out of her face, tangling her fingers in her blonde locks and pulling them back off her neck, wishing she had a ponytail holder.

She let out a sharp gasp his when her fingers got stuck and pulled a little too hard in one spot.

A sudden flash of a large meaty hand reaching for her as she tried to scramble away from him, knotting in her hair and yanking her viciously backwards caused her eyes to fly open, tears stinging them as she tried to pull oxygen into her lungs.

Oliver closed the space between them in milliseconds, his hands finding hers as he silently pleaded with her to talk to him.

Her throat got clogged up as that stark fear she'd felt when she'd been dragged from the car and held by strange, rough hands assaulted her mind.

"Oliver?" she cried softly, eyes blinking open and searching wildly for his.

When she found them, they were staring at her with such worry and care that she felt her close rein on her emotions bend and then break.

Tears began to slip down her cheeks as a sob tore from her throat.

"I thought...I thought they were going to take me and I'd never see you again...I thought they were going to…" she couldn't finish the sentence, and then Oliver's hands tugged her forward and she collapsed against him.

Her arms wound around his torso and she clung to him tightly. He hushed her as he drew her completely against him, one hand rubbing circles at the base of her neck while the other banded about her waist.

"And then I saw you and I just felt safe even though someone else's hands were on me and there was a gun, I just...just seeing you…" the muffled words spilled out of her mouth, needing to be said.

She heard the rush of air that left his lungs and suddenly she was being lifted as he pulled her on to his lap and leaned them back. Her tears soaked through Oliver's grey t-shirt as she expelled all of her fear and terror from that night.

Oliver held her, hands running in circles over her back and up into her hair. He found that tender spot on her head, and his fingers lightly caressed it as her sobs slowly ebbed.

The gentle repetitive motion of Oliver's hands, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath her ear and the events of the day and night began to catch up to her. Her eyelids grew heavy and she began to feel the pull of sleep.

Trying to mumble something to Oliver, he just hushed her once more and tightened his hold on her, and she let herself drift off to sleep, content and safe in the warmth of his arms.

She slept fitfully, in that place between asleep and awake. At one point, she remembered being lifted, strong arms and warmth surrounding her as she was carried. Instead of letting herself wake completely, she just turned into the solidness next to her head and let the feeling of safety lull her back into a deeper sleep.

There were a few times that the bad dreams pulled at the edges of her mind, shadows of men and hands grabbing at her that made her cry out, whimpering in her sleep until a hand reached out and twined with hers, warm fingers rubbing soft patterns over her skin. Other times that same hand would ghost across her forehead and down over her hair and she'd turn into the touch, breathing out a deep sigh before her mind went blissfully blank, the nightmares chased away.

When she woke, eyes fluttering open, sunlight filtered through the curtains. Felicity blinked a few times, until she remembered where she was and everything from the night before came rushing back to her.

As her eyes focused, she found Oliver laying on his side next to her. There was a pressure on her fingers and she glanced down to find their hands interlocked. Her eyes widened as she became aware that she was most definitely not in her room. The layout was different, everything mirrored.

Oliver lay on top of the duvet, still dressed in his sweats and gray t-shirt from the night before. Felicity found herself tucked among the plush sheets, only the hand that lay between them out from under the covers.

His face was only inches from hers and she could see the individual stubble along his jawline. Her fingers itched with the sudden desire to reach out and feel it, scrape her nails through it, and see how he would react. The image caused heat to spread through her belly and she sucked in a deep breath to try and calm her rapid heartbeat.

Her mind drifted to why exactly she was even in his room in the first place. She remembered falling asleep on the couch, and she flushed when she recalled how she'd been firmly curled in his lap when she had.

To her surprise, it wasn't awkward to wake beside him. In fact, she found transfixed by his face as he slept. There was a peace that was missing during his waking hours. And while she knew he often faced his own demons and nightmares in his sleep, moments like these provided a respite from the constant guilt and pain he carried on his shoulders. He'd been through so much - most of which she knew nothing about - she only knew what he let her see and know. But she wouldn't pressure him for more. All she could do was be there - by his side - for when he was ready to talk, and hope that he would get to that point before the fire inside him burned out of control.

Without realizing it, her fingers had started tracing figure eights along his knuckles, flowing back and forth over the roughened skin. His breathing was still deep and even and she was surprised he hadn't woken when she had. There was a swell of something in her chest at the idea he trusted her enough to sleep with her beside him.

A very deep part of her wanted to scoot closer to him, feel his body pressed against hers. She'd realized that it was his touch that had calmed where during the night when the nightmares threatened to overtake her. She'd turned towards him at some point, and if it hadn't been for the blankets, she wondered if she would have sought his warmth, his whole person, for that comfort. If he'd been able to chase away the ghosts by just his touch, then she wondered how she would sleep with his arms wrapped completely around her - her body pressed into the curve of his.

Blinking, she took a steadying breath and tried to rid herself of those dangerous thoughts. Thinking about them only made her heart want them more and she couldn't afford to want those things, not when she was sure Oliver did not feel the same way.

Self-preservation had her closing her eyes and slipping her hand from his grip.

She watched as Oliver shifted in his sleep and wondered if he could feel the loss of her touch as his hand spanned the space left between them as if searching her out.

The thought struck her hard and strong - that maybe he craved her touch as much as she wanted his...

The loud knocking at the door drew her attention abruptly away from Oliver, and she groaned softly.

When it didn't stop, she slowly dragged herself from the warmth of the bed and padded out of the bedroom, Oliver stirring slightly as she left.

It didn't cross her mind that she probably shouldn't be answering the door to Oliver Queen's suite until she found herself standing in front of a very annoyed and frowning Isabel Rochev.

Isabel's eyes cut over her quickly and Felicity saw one perfectly manicured eyebrow rise to her hairline.

Felicity's eyes widened as she realized what she must look like, freshly woken dressed in leggings and Oliver's pullover.

"Late night?" Isabel bit out just as she breezed past Felicity into the suite without being invited.

Pressing her lips together, Felicity felt her ire rising.

Just then, a very sleepy Oliver walked out of the bedroom, scrubbing a hand over his mussed hair.

"Felicity? Everything okay...you weren't in bed when..." His voice trailed off as he noticed Isabel was looking at him with an air of unimpressed annoyance.

To Felicity's shock, Oliver looked taken aback and when it took a moment longer than usual to get his normal business mask in place, she spoke up, everything coming to a head.

"Can we help you?" She asked with a false cheerfulness that she knew Isabel could see right through.

Isabel cleared her throat and tilted her head to study Felicity which only added to her annoyance.

The woman wasn't even supposed to be here. They'd come here for one reason and one reason only. To find Digg. And her presence was making things harder than they already were.

As she held the other woman's gaze, Felicity knew there was nothing she could say or do to convince Isabel that she and Oliver weren't sleeping together, especially not after finding them like this so early in the morning. With a resigned sigh, she took a deep breath and decided she'd stop trying to convince her and instead focus on getting rid of her so she and Oliver could do what they'd originally come to Moscow to do - bring Digg home.

"I was stopping by to make sure the lunch with the board is still scheduled for noon, and to relay to you that Stellmoor has asked me to check in with our offices here in Moscow, so I will be gone the rest of the day." Her tone was clipped as she glanced disapprovingly between the two of them. "But I see you two have been busy so I'll just let you get back to...that."

Felicity saw Oliver's jaw tense and she took a step forward so she was toe to toe with Isabel, but before she could speak the other woman added. "Really, Mr. Queen, I thought you were trying to improve your image. But you're still just a boy pretending to be a CEO."

A fierce need to protect Oliver rose within her but she knew that no matter what she said, it wouldn't do any good.

In her peripheral vision, she saw Oliver cross the floor and come closer, not close enough to draw more assumptions, but enough to be in her line of vision so that she knew he was there.

With a tired sigh, Felicity just shook her head, challenging Isabel with unspoken words and showing that she wasn't going to cower in the corner. She remained unmoving, silently showing her place and where he loyalties lay.

"I'll make sure to email you if anything changes," Felicity replied with more professionalism than Isabel was showing.

She gave them one last lingering glance and then moved to the door, her heels clacking against the hard wood floors.

Once the door was shut behind her, Felicity sagged in relief as she felt Oliver step closer.

"Felicity..." She knew that voice.

"It doesn't matter, Oliver," she told him softly. "No matter what either of us said, it wasn't going to make any difference. She's going to believe what she wants to believe. But she's wrong about you. She doesn't even know you, or me - not that she'd know me because I'm just an IT girl turned Executive Assistant - but she's making assumptions and that makes me mad, but maybe its for the best and I don't even know why I'm still talking, I'm going to stop..."

She drew in a long breath as she looked up into Oliver's blue eyes and saw that hint of lightness they held whenever she went on one of her rambles.

"First of all, you're not just an 'IT girl turned Executive Assistant'," his tone was serious and held far greater meaning that either of them were ready to acknowledge, "and, secondly, she can think whatever she wants - her underestimation of me might come in handy."

Felicity nodded in agreement, the thought having crossed her mind as well.

Suddenly, all alone again, the events of last night and this morning came rushing back to her. She shifted nervously on her feet, her hands playing with the edges of his pullover that she still wore.

When she yawned, it seemed to break the silence in the room, and he spoke.

"How did you sleep?" He posed it as a question, but when her gaze flew to his, she could see he knew the answer without her having to say anything.

She sighed and scrubbed her hands over her face, "Okay," she finally replied, and then motioned towards the door. "I'm sorry if I woke you, and for, you know, falling asleep on you last night, although that doesn't really explain why I ended up in your bed - not that I'm complaining - and I really didn't mean to say that outloud..."

Oliver took three steps forward, closing the distance between them, his sudden proximity halting her words mid-sentence.

"You have nothing to be sorry for," he said, his voice still rough with sleep. "And I could tell you weren't sleeping well. I just wanted to keep an eye on you. I know what it's like to have nightmares pull you under. Sometimes I wish I had someone there to reach out and push back the dark."

His admission surprised her, and she felt her heart clench in her chest. Allowing people in was not easy for Oliver - she knew the magnitude of it all. He rubbed a hand along the back of his neck apprehensively as if worried his explanation wouldn't be enough for her.

Her stomach flipped at his words and the concern that was evident in his tone. Felicity didn't think, she just reacted, stepping forward and closing the small gap left between them as she wrapped her arms around his waist and leaned for her forehead against his chest.

"Thank you," she whispered over his heart, and she felt the muscles twitch beneath her touch.

His arms wrapped solidly around her, and she let herself enjoy the feeling for a moment longer before stepping back and out of his grasp.

The look of surprise mixed with something she almost thought resembled longing flashed in his eyes before she ducked to the side and hurried over toward the kitchen area.

She was about to ask about breakfast when the doorbell rang again. Her eyes flew to his in question - dreading another visit from Isabel so soon.

He threw her a smile as he headed towards the door. "I ordered breakfast last night," he explained and she heaved a sigh of relief while her stomach rumbled in happiness.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N** - I love, love, love reading your responses to the chapters! To all of you who have commented on their love for the bathroom in this fic...yes, it is one of my favorites as well for all the time spent there between these two. (If I can find the link I based this suite off of, I will post it with the next chapter!) Here's a new one for you - with more shared bathroom getting ready times. (Which just sounds awkward if you don't read the fic. LOL.) ** Thanks again for all your support - it means SO MUCH!**

They were halfway through breakfast, Felicity popping food in her mouth as she checked on their scans for any new information, when Oliver's phone chimed.

The sudden shift in his body language told Felicity all she needed to know. Pulling himself from his seat, he swiped his thumb over the phone as he strode away, biting out a quick greeting in Russian. Even barefoot and dressed in a t-shirt and sweats, his posture commanded attention.

Oliver's low voice drifted through his open bedroom door, and Felicity found herself pacing from the table to the couch and back again. This could be the lead they'd been waiting for in order to find Digg.

It wasn't until Oliver stepped out of his room that she finally stopped moving and turned to gaze questioningly at him.

"Deadshot is definitely in town. According to the Bratva's contacts, he's been hired by a rogue group to take out a high-standing official within a rivaling organization," Oliver relayed, "But they have no knowledge of Digg being kidnapped or held against his will."

Felicity's brow furrowed at this bit of information. "That still leaves us with a lot of questions."

"Except that we know where Deadshot is going to be tonight, and he isn't expecting me," Oliver stated evenly, his voice adopting that low growl that he usually reserved for his hours under the hood.

Tablet already in hand, Felicity began to pull up the building plans and maps in the area of the event being held tonight that the high-ranking official would be attending according to the Bratva.

"Okay, this place has a very specific guest list from what I can see, but the area is surrounded by buildings - some of them reportedly abandoned due to the economy," Felicity said, her eyes scanning through the information as she swiped through the various screens.

She suddenly missed all of her screens in the foundry that made keeping track of information so much easier.

The couch dipped beside her as he leaned over to get a look at her findings. Pulling up the tab with the surrounding buildings, she handed the tablet to him knowing he would want to go over every possible detail.

They spent the next two hours working together to devise a plan for the night. Oliver had narrowed the buildings that Deadshot would use to take his shot down to two, but he needed to get an actual view of them to make the final call.

After the luncheon, Oliver decided he would ask the driver to swing through that part of the city since it was near some of the more famous buildings and sites.

At half past ten, Felicity realized the both needed to get ready in order to be at the meeting by noon.

Oliver hopped in the shower while Felicity finished reviewing the notes Oliver would need for the meeting before getting ready herself.

She'd decided on a grey dress with blue and green stripes through the fabric. It was more conservative than the one she wore yesterday - the one still in the trashcan in the bathroom. When she'd stripped off Oliver's pullover she'd seen the bruises from the night before, even darker this morning, against her pale skin, and knew she'd need to wear her sweater.

It wasn't until she was ready to do her make-up that she remembered leaving her bag in the bathroom the previous afternoon. Her eyes flitted to the door and back to her watch. They had twenty minutes and it would take her at least ten to finish up her make-up and hair.

Swallowing, she walked to the door that joined her room with the large bathroom and listened. The shower no longer sounded like it was running, but she didn't want to just barge into the bathroom to find a wet, naked Oliver.

Her breath hitched at that thought, a tiny voice in her head saying that she absolutely did want to do that, and she quickly squashed it.

"Oliver?" she called out, her voice wavering more than she liked.

When there was no response, she called out to him again, wondering if he'd already headed to his own bedroom to change.

The door swung open just as she was about to reach for the handle, and a very wet Oliver stood in front of her in nothing but a towel slung low around his waist, accenting his hipbones that jutted out and led her eyes on a downward track.

Her mouth dried up and she forced her eyes up as she let out a small squeak. "Oliver!"

The way his eyes flicked all around the room before returning to her told her that he was on alert for some reason.

"Are you okay?" he asked quickly, eyes scanning over her as if checking for injuries.

She nodded, eyebrows knitting together in confusion until he let out a sigh of relief. "When I heard you calling my name...it's just…"

When he dropped his head, shaking it as if to rid it of unwanted memories, she felt her hand lift of it's own accord, hovering near his chest still dripping with water. Her brain caught up to her movement and she held her arm just away from his skin, wanting to touch him - offer him the comfort he looked like he needed - but knowing that if she did, there was a chance she wouldn't want to stop.

"What?" she asked, swallowing, her desire to know what had him so upset overruling her slight embarrassment at the situation.

"While you slept last night," he sighed, his hands fisting at his sides. "You didn't wake up but you called out my name - and I kept trying to tell you I was there, but they way you said it…"

Tears pricked her eyes and she swallowed heavily. "Oliver…"

His name fell from her lips before she could stop it and she let her hand find the rough stubble of his chin, cupping his cheek.

Her heart thrummed in her chest when he tilted his head ever so softly into her palm. A long, low rush of air left her lungs and she stared up at him wide-eyed at his second huge admission of the day.

The fact that he'd been so affected by her cries - by her own fear twisted something deep within her and she had an aching need to fix his obvious distress; to let him know he hadn't let her down.

When he finally opened his eyes again, she offered him a warm smile as she let her hand fall from his cheek. "You helped...I can't remember everything, but I remember reaching for warmth and when I found it, it calmed me. That was you. I was reaching for you."

Her voice trembled softly and it was his turn to heave a heavy sigh.

His large hand found hers and grasped it tightly as he got his emotions back under control. "So if you're not hurt, what do you need that you were so insistently banging on the door to the bathroom while I was trying to take a shower?" he asked, a hint of a twinkle in his eyes and she was thankful for his attempt to lighten the mood.

"All my make-up is in there," she said, feeling her cheeks flush. "And I figured I'd better knock before barging in - that's never been a good experience for me in the past. I mean, imagine walking in on your great-aunt completely naked, or then there was this one time in college when I walked in on my roommate and her boyfriend - not that walking in on you would be a bad experience. Something tells me it would be a very good one, but that's not really the point…"

"Felicity," Oliver's gentle voice brought her out of her ramble and she looked up at him as a smile played at the corners of his lips. "Let me find my pants and then we can share the bathroom again."

"Uh, right, of course," Felicity stammered before Oliver disappeared, the door shutting softly.

Closing her eyes tightly, Felicity desperately tried not to let her mind linger on the idea of Oliver with no pants...and no towel. She swallowed thickly and felt her cheeks flushing before she took a deep, steadying breath and let it out again. Those thoughts weren't going to help her get through the next few days with him at all.

It opened minutes later to Oliver dressed once again in nothing but a pair of grey dress slacks and a black belt.

A quick wave of desire flooded through Felicity as she took in the sight before her. His back was already turned, walking over to the double sinks as she enjoyed the play of muscles across his back, and she somehow managed to keep her hands firmly planted at her sides.

As they had the day before, they readied in comfortable silence. It was something so trivial but it felt so right, and Felicity couldn't shake that feeling of wanting to do this everyday. It wouldn't be hard for her to let her imagination run wild and picture them doing this as they discussed their day or the latest threat to the city. The swell of desire - that desperate need she could feel to the very tips of her toes - caught her off guard and she had to hold back the gasp that rose in her throat.

She wanted _this_. With Oliver. She wanted this future with him. Her crush was no longer just a crush. It was so much more.

She was not a fool. She knew he carried a burden greater than she knew - that the ghosts of his past continued to haunt him daily. But none of that mattered to her. When she looked at him, she saw the man he was behind all of it and she loved him - all of him. Every scar. Every broken piece. Every smile that she managed to draw from his lips. Every moment that he looked at her and it was as if he was looking into her and seeing everything she didn't want him to see. Every second he opened himself up and let her into his damaged and warring soul. Every touch that set her body on fire and warmed her from the tips of her toes to her hair. Every single part of him. She wanted it all.

At some point, she must have closed her eyes because when they flew open, he was staring at her with such longing in his eyes, she had to steady herself with a hand against the counter.

His eyes were unusually light and his posture relaxed, she noted, and she wondered if he felt the same ease that she did in that moment.

He gave her a small smile - one that reached the blue of his eyes, and that she couldn't help returning.

His shirt hung open, buttons only part way done, and she resisted crossing the space between them and finishing the job herself. Instead, while he slipped the buttons through the small holes, she reached around him, her arm brushing against his, and pulled the tie from where it hung on the door knob. She felt the heat from his body, the smell of his aftershave, and it was a heady combination that left her wanting more.

Leaning back, she took a step forward and lifted up on her toes, wrapping the tie around his neck and tucking it carefully under his collar. His eyes tracked her every move and she could feel the thrum of her heart as the blood pounded through her veins. It would be so easy to let herself lean forward, to feel the solidness of his chest against hers, have his strong arms band about her waist and get lost in the sensations that he created within her.

Instead, she took a deep, steadying breath and stepped back. To her surprise, his fingers found hers and gently took the ends of the tie from them, his touch causing bolts of electricity to race through her already over-sensitive system.

The way his eyes darkened, she knew he wasn't unaffected and briefly she wondered if her own eyes mirrored his.

Knowing she either had to retreat or become too lost it in all, she spun on her heel, and grabbed her lipstick with shaking hands. It was the only thing she didn't have done, and as she carefully applied the bright red gloss, she could still feel his gaze upon her.

When his hands landed on her back, she jumped, trying to spin around, but he held her in place and as he slowly finished zipping up the last few inches that she hadn't been able to reach.

It was an act so intimate, a long breath rushed out of her as her eyes widened in surprise.

His hands lingered over her shoulders and she made the mistake of looking up in the mirror and seeing the image they created. Blue eyes met hers and, for a moment, she couldn't breathe.

She watched through the mirror as his hands traveled down over the cupped shoulders of her dress to her upper arms were the bruises were the darkest. Calloused fingers tripped over her soft skin and she pulled in a sharp breath as she tracked his every movement. When her eyes flicked up to his, she saw the guilt reappear and she was quick to reach up and cover his fingers with her own. She squeezed them gently, and his eyes met hers once more as she silently told him she was okay. The heat from his touch seared into her skin and she knew if she took even the smallest step backwards, her back would be against his chest, and she smiled internally, remembering the safety and security of his embrace.

Her phone chiming in the other room drew them out of their trance-like state and she rushed from the room, shaking her head at her carelessness. She desperately needed to tuck those feelings back in place and get herself together so she could face the outside world without thinking about waking up in bed with Oliver, sharing breakfast and a bathroom with him, and the touch of his fingers upon her skin.

"That's our ten minute warning," she called out over her shoulder so Oliver would hear her in the bathroom.

When he suddenly appeared right behind her, she jumped, spinning around with her phone raised as a weapon.

An amused expression flashed across his face and she narrowed her eyes at him. "I thought you were still in the bathroom. How do you walk so quietly?"

He just shrugged and held out the two cuff links from the day before. Felicity sighed and took them from him, trying to touch him as little as possible. Her fingers deftly worked them into place, and she made sure to not dwell on how natural this felt.

"Is helping Oliver Queen get dressed a part of the Executive Assistant job description?" she muttered without thinking.

When he stilled, she quickly replayed her words and mentally berated her filter. "Not that I dressed you or that you can't dress yourself, or that you...oh forget it. Isabel already thinks we're sleeping together - might as well add it to my job description."

Oliver quirked an eyebrow at her, and she felt the heat rising from her chest as images flashed in her mind of helping him get undressed instead of dressed.

Shaking her head, she turned and headed for her purse, grabbing her sweater and tablet on the way.

"Speaking of Ms. Rochev, I'm sure she's already waiting for us. Let's go," she said, walking towards the door.

Before she could reach the handle, Oliver was at her side, draping something warm and soft across her shoulders. Looking down, she saw that it was the coat he'd bought for her yesterday.

A smile played at the corner of her lips as he helped her into the sleeves and then reached in front of her to get the door.

"Thank you," she whispered, as she walked through and waited for him to follow.

HIs hand fell to her lower back to lead them down the hallway to where a bellhop was stationed and pressed the elevator button for them. Despite a new set of eyes, Oliver kept his hand near her waist and she wondered if he even realized he was doing it.

It finally fell away when they walked out into the lobby of the hotel, and saw Isabel waiting for them once more. She'd changed from her outfit this morning, and eyed them with obvious displeasure.

Felicity waited for the scathing remark she was sure was coming, and when it didn't she frowned and glanced up at Oliver only to find him leveling his best intimidating glare at the other woman.

The lunch meeting lasted an hour too long for Felicity, and she began to sneak peeks at her phone as the minutes ticked by, unable to keep her mind off of Diggle and the danger he might be in.

Two hours later, they were finally leaving, and Felicity had to keep herself from jumping up from the table too soon. She waited by the door while Oliver shook hands with the Russian board of executives and led Isabel out to where Felicity was waiting, the car already pulled in front of the curb.

On the way back, Isabel informed them that she still had a few things to take care of at Stellmoor and the car dropped her off there before heading back to the hotel.

Felicity pulled out her tablet as soon as Isabel left and began going back through all the plans they'd drawn up as Oliver steered the driver towards the part of town where the gala was going to be held. As they approached the area, Oliver began pointing out various places and architecture types, surprising her with his knowledge about the area. It wasn't until she remembered how much she still didn't know about his missing five years that she began to wonder just how much time he'd actually spent on the island.

For his part, Oliver didn't even hesitate when they rounded the corner and one of the buildings that they'd marked as a possible target came into view. She could see his shoulders tense as his eyes scanned the surrounding area taking in the various vantage points and schematics.

She looked too, noticing the large windows facing out and the disrepair it was in compared to the others. As she lowered her gaze to street level once more, she sat up straighter and scooted closer to the window as a familiar profile slipped among the crowd of people on the sidewalk.

When she tried to find the person again, he was gone and she shook her head, deciding she definitely needed a good night's sleep.

Oliver's hand landed on her shoulder and she swiveled her head to look at him. The question in his eyes told her he'd noticed her reaction to whatever she'd thought she'd seen.

Sighing, she shook her head to let him know it was nothing. His eyes held hers for a few seconds more before they approached the other possible building Deadshot could use and he evaluated it the same way he had done with the previous one. When they made the last turn to head back to the hotel, he sat back against the seat with purpose, and Felicity knew he'd made a decision.

Wordlessly, he pointed to one of the buildings on her tablet, and she knew that was their target. She pulled up the floor plans and passed the device to Oliver while she grabbed her phone. The rest of the ride was silent as they both were lost deep in thought with their separate tasks.

When they were back in their suite, Oliver shrugged off his jacket and hung it over the back of a chair. Scrubbing his hands over his face, he began to pace. She knew if they were back at the lair, he'd be working out, the adrenaline starting to surge within him at the impending mission.

He reminded her of a caged animal, but she knew there was nothing she could do to help him in that moment. He needed this time to center himself and figure out everything in his head.

Slipping out of her own coat, she toed off her shoes and padded over to the couch. Settling into the cushions, she brought up all of the information they had on Digg, the missing A.R.G.U.S. agent and Deadshot. Something wasn't sitting well in her mind, and she needed to figure out what it was before they walked out that door tonight.

She wasn't sure how much time had passed but then Oliver was suddenly waving a hand in front of her face. She found herself frowning furiously at the information staring back at her.

"Hey, what's wrong?" Oliver asked, sitting down next to her.

She sighed, rubbing her temples before pushing her glasses back up on her nose. "I don't know. Something just doesn't feel right. I mean, why would Deadshot kidnap Diggle? Kidnapping has never been his MO. And when he had the chance back in Starling City to take Diggle out, he didn't because he hadn't been paid to do it. But now he does? And where does the A.R.G.U.S. agent play into it all? There's too many loose threads, Oliver. Too many things that don't add up."

He let out a long breath beside her and she knew without looking some of these same thoughts had plagued him. "I don't know," he replied tiredly. "All I know is what the Bratva contacts have told me."

"Weren't they supposed to call you with more information?" Felicity suddenly remembered, her head flying up, searching his face.

Oliver nodded, clasping his hands into fists and planting his forehead on them. "Yes. They'll call when they call."

She bit her bottom lip and turned back to the information staring up at her. She was missing something.

Her eyes trailed over the information. Lyla - the A.R.G.U.S. agent had gone missing after she'd followed a lead on Deadshot. And Diggle had disappeared a few days after that. But what if Diggle hadn't been kidnapped at all? What if he was tracking Deadshot just as they were?

Somehow Oliver knew what she was about to say before she said it. "I know. I thought about that but we have no reason to believe that - it's not like Digg to just take off without saying anything."

"Unless he was trying to protect us," Felicity ventured, but stopped at the confusion that settled over Oliver's face.

Before he could move, Felicity laid a hand on his arm. "Believe it or not, there are still people who want to protect you in this world, Oliver Queen."

Her voice was soft and intimate, a stark contrast to the large ostentatiously ornate room in which they sat.

Blue eyes cut to hers and she watched the emotions slip through them, shifting swiftly as if carried by a river until all that she could see was a mixture of disbelief and uncertainty.

She offered him a small smile, trying to keep the tears pricking at her eyes from slipping down her cheeks. It hurt to see how much Oliver didn't believe people could still care about him. He didn't think he deserved to be loved or protected by anyone.

Shifting closer to him on the couch, she tentatively leaned in and let her head fall to his shoulder.

A deep shuddering sigh left his body before she felt him relax and his head rest against hers.

"We'll find him, right?" she whispered, allowing her biggest fear to escape into the open.

A large, calloused hand encased hers where it still lay on his arm. "We'll do everything we can. I promise." he replied, his voice hoarse with emotion.

"Okay," she breathed, letting her eyes fall shut and giving herself this moment to soak in the comfort of his presence.

Oliver represented a safety to her that she had never known before and she suspected that if he knew that truth, he'd try to convince her otherwise, but she wouldn't be swayed. Her body responded to the sight, smell and proximity of him like no one else. She'd accepted that a long time ago.

His hand tightened around hers and she heard him open his mouth to speak but before he could his phone began to ring.

He stood, almost immediately, and Felicity rose as well, nerves rocketing through her as he picked up the phone, looking at the screen and giving her a short nod before he answered it in Russian.

But before Felicity could begin to appreciate the smooth tones of his voice as they spoke fluently in the foreign language, there was a knock at their door.

Oliver's eyes cut to her and he motioned to the bedroom as she headed for the foyer. She waited until he'd entered his room and closed the door behind him to open the main door to the suite.

Isabel Rochev stood on the other side, phone in her hand as she talked in quick clipped tones with the person on the other end. Without waiting for an invite, she walked in, much like she had that morning.

Felicity sighed and followed her, wondering if this day could get any more complicated. With a sinking feeling, she knew it could.

Finishing her conversation, Isabel turned and regarded Felicity with her usual inquisitive gaze.

"Should I even ask where Mr. Queen is?" she began with a sigh and Felicity immediately bristled at the tone which suggested he was indisposed for reasons other than his actual job.

Straightening her shoulders, Felicity regarded the other woman with a heated glare. "Mr. Queen is taking an important business call in the other room. You're welcome to come back later if you need to discuss something with him."

Isabel's eyes narrowed and she tilted her head to the side before shaking it firmly and planting herself on the edge of one of the over-stuffed chairs. "No, thank you. I'll just wait here. The matter I have to discuss with him can't wait."

Felicity resisted the urge to groan, instead, plastering a congenial smile on her face and nodded her head. "Of course."

Returning to her seat on the couch, she turned her attention back to her tablet. When Isabel spoke up a few moments later, she was surprised.

"So why exactly is a girl who graduated at the top her class from MIT working as an Executive Assistant?"

The question caught Felicity off guard and her head flew up, eyes wide.

Isabel gave her a knowing smile, pressing out the imaginary wrinkles in her skirt.

Putting on her best mask, Felicity returned the fake smile with one of her own. She tried to figure out how to reply without giving too much away. In the end, she settled for a half-truth.

"Mr. Queen is a friend," she replied easily. "And I believe in what he's trying to do."

Isabel pursed her lips, her gaze scrutinizing and Felicity fought the urge to squirm. "What exactly is he trying to do, Ms. Smoak?"

Felicity found a fierce protectiveness rise within her, and she started talking before she could stop. "He's trying to save his family's company."

"But that doesn't explain why you are so loyal to him. To his family's company." She commented, her gaze never leaving Felicity's.

She held her gaze and lifted her chin. "They've been good to me. And I don't believe that children should pay for their parent's mistakes."

"Well, you're loyalty is admirable, Ms. Smoak, but it's not going to save this company," she said after a moment, "It's a sinking ship, and Oliver Queen does not know the first thing about running it. So whatever you are getting from this..._arrangement_, I suggest, for the sake of your career, you start looking elsewhere."

Biting down on her tongue, Felicity narrowed her eyes, knowing that whatever would come out of her mouth would not be anything good.

"And I know you've gotten other offers - offers from companies that aren't on their last leg. Including ours…" Isabel added, finally looking down at her phone. "I could get you a job worthy of your skills. All you have to do is ask."

Anger rose within Felicity so quick and fast that she had to take great lengths to control her breathing.

Mustering the most pleasant smile she could, Felicity leveled Isabel with a glare. "I'm not going anywhere. I'm happy where I am."

For the first time, Felicity realized she meant those words. She was happy by Oliver's side - helping him during the day and night. While there were times when she longed for the comfort of her IT job and the familiar hum of the servers, she truly was right where she needed to be for now.

Isabel hadn't been expecting that confident of an answer. The skin around her eyes wrinkled as she gave a tight smile and turned back to whatever she'd been looking at on her phone.

Felicity busied herself with checking the various scans on her tablet while Isabel began to tap incessantly against her phone and Felicity had to bit her tongue to keep from saying anything.

"Just how long is Mr. Queen going to be on this call?" she finally asked with a huff. "If this is business, why wasn't I informed?"

Felicity ignored Isabel's second question and addressed the first. "I'm not sure. He took it just before you arrived. It could last a while. You're more than welcome to leave a message with me if you have more pressing matters to attend to."

She gave the woman another tight-lipped smile and waited.

Finally, Isabel sighed, and stood.

"Very well. You might as well tell him - I have things to do. I have been called to check in at our London offices before heading back to Starling City. I'm flying to London tonight," she informed Felicity succinctly. "That is, if any of our assistants can get me a flight," she added with unmasked disdain.

Just then her phone rang and she answered it with a sharp greeting.

Felicity could tell within a few seconds that the person on the other end of the line did not have good news.

With a few swipes and taps on her tablet, Felicity found what she was looking for and tried to keep the smile off her face.

Isabel hung up a few minutes later, grumbling about the ineptitude of half the workers at the company. "You would think I was asking for afternoon tea with the queen and not a first-class plane ticket," she sighed.

"I have you on a flight tonight at 9:00 PM, first-class into Heathrow," Felicity spoke up, making the last confirmation with a tap of her fingers. "I can also try to book a flight back to Starling City or do you have a company jet you'll be using?" she asked, trying to keep the triumphant smile off her face when she glanced up to see Isabel's shocked expression.

Pushing her glasses up on her face, she waited while the other woman's mouth opened and closed twice before she finally found her voice.

"Every one of our assistants at Stellmoor said that all of the flights were booked," she began, lips pressing into a thin line, "How did you find something when they couldn't?"

Felicity smiled pleasantly up at the woman. "Just doing my job. Sometimes you just have to know where to look."

A moment of silence passed between the two of them and Felicity held Isabel's gaze with determination until the chiming of her phone drew her attention away.

"That would be your flight confirmation," Felicity added, and Isabel gave her a tight smile - something akin to pleasant surprise crossing her normally dour features.

With a polite nod, Isabel headed for the door, only pausing long enough to turn back once. "Please give Mr. Queen my message. Thank you, Ms. Smoak."

And then she was gone, the door shutting loudly behind her.

A wide smile blossomed on Felicity's face, and she knew if Diggle would have been there, he would tell her she had on her "i just cracked a code" face, but she couldn't help it.

When she saw movement from across the room, she turned her head to find Oliver leaning against the doorframe of his room. His hands were shoved in his pockets and there was a proud smile tugging at his mouth.

A swell of warmth flowed through her as she realized that pride was directed at her.

"I think that's the first time I've seen Isabel Rochev speechless," Oliver stated as he pushed himself off the door jam and walked towards her.

In his grey suit pants, and the first few buttons of his collar popped open, the image he created caused her mouth to go dry.

Before he could get too close, she cleared her throat and stood. "It felt good."

"I bet. I heard the last half of that conversation," he said and her eyes flew to his, as he came even closer.

He stopped when he was only inches away and if she reached out she would be able to twist her fingers in the edges of his dress shirt, and draw him close with the loose tie around his neck. Her breathing changed and he must have noticed because he tipped his head to the side and regarded her with a look that sent her emotions into over-drive.

"Thank you," he finally murmured softly, and she knew he was referring to her declaration of loyalty to him and the company.

She swallowed and shrugged. "It's the truth."

With rapt attention, she watched as his eyes slipped shut, but before they did, she caught a glimpse of the guilt he regularly wore whenever anyone tried to do something for him. He didn't think he deserved it - any of it.

She wanted to tell him he was worth all of it. That he deserved a happy story - one hundred happy stories even. That she longed to give him even one happy story. But the words stuck in her throat. He wasn't ready to hear those things. Not yet. Maybe someday. But not yet.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: **Sorry for the bit of wait with this one. Things got a bit crazy for me and then the site was being fussy. I'm so glad you are enjoying this story! I love to come and read all the lovely comments! One of the best comments I think a writer can get is hearing that people think your writing is in-character and that the people who read it can hear the character voices, so thank you so much! As always, I'm eager to hear what you think about this chapter! Blame **anthfan** for the ending. Those of you who read her stories will understand why! Thanks again!

Felicity found herself lost in her thoughts, and it wasn't until Oliver let out a soft sigh and moved to the side, running his hands through his short-cropped hair that she was brought back to the present.

"So what did they tell you?" she asked, making herself focus on the mission and Digg and not the feelings that were beginning to grow out of control.

"Deadshot has a hostage. He's been seen with her the last few days," Oliver relayed as he opened his eyes and walked toward the bank of windows looking out over the city. The sun was just beginning to set and Felicity knew they didn't have too much more time to figure everything out.

"Her...the agent...Lyla," Felicity filled in, brain churning with the new information. "So that means Digg is here on his own?"

"I don't know," Oliver ground out, clearly frustrated. "I don't understand why he would do that without telling us."

"You haven't seen him the past few months Oliver," Felicity began quietly, not wanting to place any more guilt on his shoulders but knowing he needed to hear this.

She sighed, hands clasping her tablet tightly.

"After the Glades….after everything kind of fell apart, he began to obsess over it - like it was the one thing he might be able to have control over in his life. And I understood that feeling. It's why I went back to the Foundry and started to draw up plans for it. It was the one thing I could try to fix…" she trailed off, thinking back to those days that were so dark; when she and Diggle had sought each other out for company.

She watched as the muscles in Oliver's back tightened, and he stood imperceptibly taller, her words taking their toll.

"He kept searching and I tried to help but he didn't want me getting too close. When he broke up with Carly, I saw how much it was eating away at him." She paused, shaking her head at the memories.

"He's literally put his life on hold until he catches him, Oliver," she said softly, "He needs to do this, and I think a part of him wasn't sure you would help him even though you promised...after the last time…"

The breath rushed out of Oliver at her words and she saw him brace his hands against one of the windowsills, head bowed low, and she rushed to continue.

"I know you two made up after that, but I think it's still in the back of his head," she said quietly. "So maybe he did come here by himself. But he can't face him alone, Oliver," she whispered, her voice cracking. "The last time he did that he was almost shot point-blank. Just like we had your back with Malcolm, he needs us to have his."

As her words trailed off, she waited for him to say something - _anything_.

She could see the tension that ran down his back and spine, and knew he was fighting those feelings of regret and guilt. Part of her longed to cross the room and comfort him, but she knew this was something he had to come to on his own. All she could do was wait, letting him know she was there.

When he pushed off the windowsill and turned around, all his emotions were laid bare before her - an open book for her to read.

Her heart ached at the sight and she wished she could ease some of that pain, take some of his burdens on herself to lighten his load.

"You're right," he eventually murmured, "I failed him before. I won't do that again."

"_We_," Felicity corrected him quickly. "We won't."

His eyes snapped to hers and he was shaking his head before he could get a word out of his mouth but she strode towards him refusing to let him cut her out of this.

"No, I'm coming," she almost yelled. "I'm _coming_. I'm not sitting here in this hotel suite while both members of this team are out there risking their lives. I'm coming. You can yell and scream all you want about how it's dangerous and after last night, it's too much, but it's not going to change my mind. You need me. I can navigate you through that building. We can get Lyla and Diggle out - _together_."

Oliver opened his mouth to protest again, but Felicity was in his face, eyes blazing. "My life, Oliver, remember?"

"Last night was too close," he growled, and she sighed.

"I'm coming," she repeated evenly. "You can either let me come with you or I'll find my own way there. But I'm going help Diggle."

Holding his gaze, she waited him out.

"Fine," he bit out.

They prepared in relative silence, but Felicity could feel the tension radiating from him. She felt the gazes he kept throwing her way and knew he was worrying - thinking about all the things that could go wrong. She wished she could do something to help, but she knew there was nothing she could do or say. He would worry regardless.

When she reappeared from her room, dressed in dark pants and a button-down blouse, her hair pulled back in it's normal ponytail, she was surprised to find him staring out the windows. He had changed as well, gone was his business suit and white dress shirt, replaced with black cargo pants and a black t-shirt.

They'd decided back in Starling City that they couldn't risk bringing his Arrow gear. The Arrow showing up someplace so far from Starling City the same week as Oliver Queen would raise too many eyebrows.

So the green hood and leather pants had stayed at home. However, Oliver had still chosen to bring his bow, and Felicity had ordered some of the same black arrows that Merlyn had used for Oliver.

He'd been surprised when she'd mentioned it, but she was adamant that nothing could tie the Arrow to anything that went down in Russia. He'd agreed and thanked her with a heavy sigh and a gentle touch to her shoulder.

She approached him softly - one glance at her watch telling her they only had a few minutes before they needed to leave.

As she passed the couch, she noticed the two bags of gear that Oliver must have finished packing - her tablet sitting carefully on top.

Not wanting to startle him, although he probably knew she was already there, she cleared her throat when she was within touching distance.

"We should probably go," she said softly, and watched his shoulders fall as he turned.

For a brief second, he let her see everything warring in those beautiful blue eyes. The worry, the anger, the grief, the determination - and then with one blink, it was all gone, locked tight behind a myriad of masks.

He nodded resolutely and he stepped around her, one hand falling to her elbow as he maneuvered past her. She knew he had more than enough room to get by, so this was a silent message of thanks.

The pad of his thumb swiped across the sensitive part of her elbow and she tried to ignore the spark the traveled from that spot all the way to her center.

Taking a deep breath, she followed him, watching as he grabbed the hooded sweatshirt he'd brought off the back of one of the chairs. He zipped it up and then grabbed the black leather jacket that she loved and threw it on over the top of the hoodie.

Dragging her attention away from him, she bent down and grabbed the two Bluetooth devices off the table. She'd ordered them from the front desk and they'd been delivered promptly.

"I programmed them to the burner phones we bought," she said, handing one to him, and he pocketed it.

Throwing on her sweater, and then the coat Oliver had given her, she grabbed one of the bags and headed towards the door, Oliver on her heels.

When she reached the door, she paused, and heard him stop quickly to keep from running into her.

This was it. If anything went wrong, there was a chance, they'd never see their friend again.

Her mind raced with unthinkable scenarios until Oliver's hand fell on her shoulder, giving it a squeeze. Slowly, it traveled down her arm to cover the fingers that had frozen on the door handle.

He was pressed flush against her now, and she could feel his breath ghost over her shoulder.

"We'll get him," he reassured, somehow knowing exactly what she needed to hear.

Taking a long, deep breath, she nodded and let him help her turn the handle on the door.

Once more, Oliver persuaded their driver to let him have the car for the night, and this time Felicity didn't ask what he'd told the man.

As Oliver drove, Felicity went over everything again - the plans, the Bluetooth devices, the satellite images - she checked and double-checked them until a hand landed over hers and held it tight.

When he parked the car, he let go, and Felicity quickly pulled out her phone and pulled up the thermal imaging she'd gotten from the satellite feeds she'd hacked into before they left the suite. After making sure their communications system was up and running, she took a deep breath, and gave him a nod. He pulled up the hood on his sweatshirt and Felicity couldn't help but feel odd at the image of him in anything but green.

Just before he climbed out of the car, her hand reached for his arm, and their eyes met in the darkness.

There were a mountain of things on the tip of her tongue, but staring at him now, the leather of his jacket cool and supple beneath her fingers, she couldn't find her voice.

"I'll be right back," he murmured, giving her hand a squeeze and then adding, "Lock the doors, stay alert."

She nodded, and released his arm. Once again, he waited until he heard the click of the locks sliding into place before he disappeared into the shadows.

Once she heard the connection come through, she began talking, pretending she was back in the lair, and this was another normal mission. Swallowing her fears, she started to lead him through the abandoned building.

"Looks like Deadshot is in the northeast corner," she stated quickly, eyes darting from the satellite images to the building blueprints. "I can't tell what floor he's on but it's close to the top based on the colors I'm getting."

Oliver said nothing, but she knew he heard. Everything went well until three splotches of red entered the building close to where Oliver was making his way to the staircase.

"You've got company," she hissed. "Two or three coming down the hallway. They'll be on you in five, four, three…"

Before she could even finish counting, she heard the unmistakable sound of gunfire and then an arrow being released.

The grunts and cries of pain she heard for the next few minutes kept her on edge, but she could hear Oliver's steady breathing and that kept her calm.

It wasn't until three more red splotches entered from behind him that she began to really worry.

"Oliver," she hissed. "Behind you!"

She almost jumped when he grunted, but then heard the last of the first three men fall as his attention was now turned to the men on the other side of the hallway. As she watched his form move, she realized with dawning horror that they were drawing him away from Deadshot. They were buying Deadshot time; probably paid by whoever had hired the sniper in the first place. The gala now in full-swing, though, and they were running out of time.

As she watched her satellite picture three red areas became clear in the northeast corner where Deadshot was apparently set up.

The first two were close together, but the third had shifted and was farther away.

When her connection to Oliver turned to static, her worry turned into full-blown panic.

"Oliver!" she cried, but got no response.

The tracker he wore in his boot still showed him dealing with at least one person, and she made to a decision.

Shrugging out of the heavy, expensive overcoat - knowing it would only get in the way, she climbed from the car. She checked to make sure she had the knife Oliver and Digg had been training her with, along with her phone, and then headed carefully for the building.

Somehow, she knew there wasn't much time left and she quickly made her way through the deserted and desolate halls to the staircase, using a different route than Oliver had taken.

The stairwell was almost pitch-black except for a few small windows where lights from the streets filtered in. Still, she was glad for the sensory training Diggle had done with her in the months Oliver had been gone.

Her hands were shaking as she climbed the last set of stairs and she saw that she'd managed to put herself towards the back of the room, closest to the lone red dot on her screen.

With a quick deep breath she peaked around the corner of the door into the dimly lit room. She could barely make out two figures near the window, one standing near a high-powered rifle, set up to aim out a broken window, while the other looked to be tied up in a chair.

Movement caught her attention and before she knew what was happening two strong arms wrapped around her mouth and waist, pulling her back into darkness of the stairwell. Her voice got lost somewhere in her panic and it wasn't until she heard the familiar voice whispering her name into her ear that she stilled.

Digg.

When they were out of sight, she whirled around wide-eyed, trying to make out his large figure in the relative darkness.

"What are you doing here?" he hissed, eyes darting around, more than likely looking for Oliver.

Felicity shook her head, quickly trying to snap out of her shocked state and find words.

"You...you just disappeared and Oliver and I were worried. We didn't know if you'd been taken or something else had happened…" She kept her voice as quiet as possible, knowing that if they were discovered, it would only end badly.

"Where's Oliver?" Diggle asked, ignoring her statement for the time being.

"I don't know. Our communication got cut off and then I figured out you were here and I couldn't just sit in the car if you were hurt or in bad shape...but I really didn't think it through completely." She began to babble and a hand clamped down over her mouth, cutting her off mid-sentence, and she was thankful.

"He's got Lyla," Digg whispered, pressing them both up against the wall, and peaking his head out to make sure Deadshot was still in sight. "It's a trap. This was all to lure me out. I don't know why, but I've been tracking him for a few days…"

Diggle's words ended abruptly as a bullet whistled past them, hitting the doorframe. A scream left her lips and then she was suddenly bodily tackled to the ground.

Deadshot's voice rang through the air.

"I know you're there. Better come out before the lovely agent pays the price…" His voice was eerily calm for a madman, Felicity decided, and she wasn't fast enough to grab Diggle before he stood and showed himself.

"Your friend too," Deadshot added, and Felicity felt ice run through her veins.

She saw Diggle grit his teeth but motioned for her to get behind him. With shaking legs, she did as he directed.

Deadshot walked closer, and in an effort to keep her behind him, Diggle began to circle left. Felicity stayed as close to his back as she could, her petite frame completely hidden behind his broad shoulders. She could feel the trembling in her entire body. Every nerve ending was firing and she had to clasp her hands together to keep them from balling up the material of her shirt.

Felicity could no longer hear the words being said. The only noise that filled her head was the sound of the blood rushing through her veins.

It was Oliver's voice echoing across the open space that pushed back the white noise pounding through her head. She heard her name and her eyes darted up just in time to see Oliver's familiar silhouette in the far corner and Deadshot's rifle aimed at her and Digg.

There was a cry from the corner - Lyla, and Digg's attention was momentarily diverted and Deadshot took his chance.

She moved without thought, her only instinct to protect her team. Two sounds echoed through the room simultaneously as she fell to the ground - an arrow slicing through the air and a gunshot screaming towards her.

She and Diggle landed hard on the ground, her ears ringing as she tried to push up from the dust-covered concrete.

Deadshot lay unmoving ten feet from her. Diggle had pulled his gun and had it trained on the man while Oliver suddenly came into view as he quickly stepped towards them.

A sharp, stinging pain coursed through her as she tried to sit upright and her hand fell to her side automatically. She hissed through her teeth, a sharp cry escaping despite her efforts to keep quiet.

Oliver froze halfway across the floor, his eyes trained on her with growing panic. When she looked down at her hand, everything stopped as she saw the blood that covered her fingers.

She felt herself gasp for breath as the reality of the situation hit her, white noise filling her head, and black dots blurring her vision. Her head whipped up to find Oliver, knowing she was doing nothing to hide the overwhelming fear coursing through her body.

His bullets were poisoned. She'd been hit. _She_ was poisoned.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N:** Thanks again for the AMAZING response to the last chapter! I'm so thrilled that you guys are enjoying this story! I'm sorry I left the last chapter hanging - it was anthfan's suggestion. LOL. But here is the follow up, and I hope it makes it better! ;) As always, let me know what you think. I LOVE reading your comments and your kind words! Thanks again so much!

There's one more chapter after this one. :)

Her mind pieced together this information but the only thing she could focus on was Oliver who was standing five feet from her. His bow dropped to the floor with a loud thunk, a look of pure horror filling his face. And then he was at her side, hands poised over her, reaching out but almost scared to touch.

Felicity's vision began to tunnel, black edges creeping in as she kept her face trained on the man now kneeling beside her.

"Oliver?" she heard herself whisper, the terror clear in her voice.

Blue eyes met hers in the dim light and, finally, he found a place for his hands. Cupping her face, his fingers rubbed lightly over her cheeks wiping away tears she didn't realize were there.

"You're going to be okay, Felicity," he said hoarsely, as if commanding her. "You're going to be okay."

"Oliver, his bullets…" The burning on her side was intensifying and she wasn't sure if that was because of the poison or just her body's reaction to having something rip through her skin.

"Digg!" Oliver's voice sounded scared to her own ears and she let go of her wound with one hand and wrapped it around his wrist.

Her fingers easily found the steady pulse, and she tried to focus on it instead of the searing pain at her side.

A second later, Digg was hovering over her, worried eyes flashing with guilt. She wanted to comfort him too, but she was starting to feel very warm - too warm.

Her eyelids grew heavy and began to slip shut before Oliver's voice registered in her brain and his thumbs trailed down her cheeks.

"Felicity, stay with me," he cried, and she didn't miss the crack in his voice.

"S okay, Oliver," she murmured, the words heavy on her tongue.

She knew there was a conversation taking place above her but she couldn't focus on it. Then she was being lifted, the movement making her gasp as it tugged at the edges of her wound.

Oliver's face hovered above her and she thought she felt him press a kiss against her temple before they were moving and she fisted her hand in his jacket just to keep from getting sick as the world spun around her.

She heard voices as she was carried, but she couldn't seem to focus on any of them.

"Oliver," she managed to whisper, and she felt him tighten his hold on her. "I feel funny…"

"I know," he murmured, "Just hang on. I've got the herbs back at the hotel. You just have to stay with me until then."

She swallowed as the cold Moscow air hit her, her throat feeling dry and sore. Pressing her head into the crook of Oliver's neck she let out a deep breath, and felt the bob of his adam's apple.

The next thing she knew she was lowered onto a seat, and for the first time, she realized she was shaking. She felt the loss of Oliver's body heat acutely until he slid in behind her and wrapped her in his arms again.

The jostling hurt and she cried out at some point, biting down on her bottom lip to the point of drawing blood.

"Breathe," Oliver told her softly, and she felt the pressure of his fingers running over her forehead, and tried to force her eyes open.

When she did, all she could make out were blurry outlines. Her hand reached out and it took more strength than she liked to complete that simple action. Strong fingers wrapped around hers and held on tight.

She squeezed back and tried to turn her head towards him, the scent of leather and sandalwood wrapping around her. When the car took a sharp turn, she hissed and realized that Oliver was now holding her hand over her wound, keeping the pressure firmly applied. Her fingers were slick with her own blood and that thought sent her stomach churning.

As she turned further into him, his stubble rubbed against her forehead and she recalled hazily how she'd wanted to scrap her fingernails through it earlier that morning. Or had it been yesterday. Her mind was foggy and she couldn't remember what day it was anymore.

By the time the car came to a stop, she could barely feel her feet or hands. Her body shook with a fierce intensity that had her calling out Oliver's name every so often just to make sure he was still there.

The tight voice that always replied told her that he was shaken too.

How they got in the hotel without being asked questions, she wouldn't know until later.

But soon she was laid down on something soft and smooth. Voices murmured around her and then she felt hands at her waist.

A dark shape loomed above her and she whimpered softly until Digg's soothing voice filled her ears. He sounded far away and she had to concentrate hard to understand him.

"I need to see the wound, Felicity," he said gently, and she could feel her clothes being shifted.

The sudden pressure on her side had her crying out and she thought she heard a distant voice that sounded like Oliver. For the first time since she'd been set down, she realized she couldn't feel his comforting warmth near her.

"Oliver?" she croaked, unsure if the word had formed correctly on her lips.

"He's getting the tea ready," Diggle told her gently and she tried to nod but couldn't.

And then he was there, his scent washing over her as she was propped up against solid warmth. A hand cupped her cheek and she fought to open her eyes.

When she finally got them open, the sudden light caused her to wince but she could just make out a blurry Oliver staring down at her with the most gut-wrenching expression.

"Come on," he murmured. "You need to drink this."

Opening her eyes took most of her energy and she realized with sudden fear that no matter how hard she tried, her body wouldn't respond to her commands. Everytime she order her lips to part and mouth to open, nothing happened.

A vice tightened around her heart and she felt wetness leak down her cheeks.

Oliver must have understood because his fingers were suddenly on her lips, opening them as he tilted the cup up to her mouth.

She tasted nothing but felt liquid spill into her and then Oliver was gruffly telling her swallow. Concentrating as hard as she could, she managed to get her throat to work. When he tipped her jaw upwards, it helped and the liquid slid down with ease.

"Good girl," she heard Digg mutter and felt more pressure on her side.

In the back of her foggy mind, she understood that it was Digg cleaning the injury to her side.

Slowly, it was as if her body was shutting down and she kept fighting it, not wanting to drift off, afraid that she wouldn't wake again.

Oliver still hadn't moved, his hand continued to cup her jaw and she turned her face into him. HIs fingers traced over cheeks and she wondered if she was still crying. She couldn't tell anymore.

"It's okay," his voice finally drifted to her as if coming from a distance. "You'll be okay. Sleep."

Trusting him, she let the darkness take over and fell into a dreamless sleep.

The first thing she felt when she woke up was the pounding in her head. The second was the warmth at her back and the security it brought her.

Without opening her eyes, she shifted back into it, turning her head and instantly regretting it as the pounding only intensified. A moan fell from her lips and it was so loud that she winced.

The warmth at her back shifted, and a hand came up and landed on her forehead, gently pushing the hair away from her face and trailing comforting fingers through the blonde strands. The movements were lazy, almost as if they were being done half-asleep.

Felicity could already tell opening her eyes was going to hurt - the light that lit the back of her eyelids creating a stabbing pain, but the need to see him was greater than the fear of discomfort.

Slowly and with great concentration, she blinked open her eyes, another groan escaping her lips as the light filtered through the open window shades.

The fingers in her hair moved again, only this time with more urgency and she felt the warmth at her back shift.

"Felicity?" Oliver's voice washed over her like a welcoming balm, and she hummed, braving the bright light again to try and see him.

She felt a gentle pressure under her chin and then her head was tilted upwards.

When he came into focus, she couldn't stop the smile that blossomed on her lips.

"Oliver," her voice was hoarse and sounded nothing like normal.

A breath left him in a whoosh of air and she watched as his head fell forward, forehead brushing against hers.

Slowly, she reached her hand up to cover his that still lay against her chin and wrapped her fingers around his, grasping as firmly as she could.

The long, slow shudder that ran through his body caused her heart to tighten at his obvious distress.

When he lifted his head a moment later, she gasped at the emotions swimming in his deep blue eyes.

"You had me so worried," he rasped, swallowing thickly, his thumb running circles over her knuckles.

"I had me worried too," she replied, and saw his eyes fill with guilt a second later.

Beginning to shake her head, she groaned at the mistake as the pounding returned with a vengeance. HIs hand left hers and returned to her forehead, bracing her head as it laid comfortingly across her skin.

"Don't blame yourself," she finally managed through gritted teeth. "This wasn't your fault. This wasn't Digg's fault. My choice, remember?"

"And that choice almost got you killed…" His voice broke on the last word and she watched as his jaw tightened with unspoken fear.

"But it didn't," Felicity replied, a shiver running up her spine at the close call, "You saved me."

Oliver shook his head, screwing his eyes shut and she waited for him to open his eyes again before speaking.

"My head really hurts...and I'm so tired…"

Oliver's eyes focused on her, trailing over her face as if memorizing every detail. "You're body is still trying to get rid of the last of the poison. Just sleep."

She nodded, her eyelids already falling shut again. "You'll be here?"

"I'm not going anywhere," he replied thickly and she let out a breath and fell back asleep with his fingers tracing patterns against her forehead.

She woke a few more times but only to shift against Oliver before drifting off again. The next time she opened her eyes, light was dwindling in the bedroom window the sky outside painted in colors of purples and pinks and golds.

The pounding in her head had subsided and she was left with only a dull ache. She instantly became aware of the change in positions. Instead of being propped up on Oliver's chest, they had sunken down into the bed, and she was now sprawled across his chest, one hand wrapped securely around her waist, fingertips barely brushing the other side where she could feel a bandage.

It was then that it registered that there was nothing between Oliver's fingers and her skin. Her eyes glanced down to see the blouse she'd worn last night gone and a white dress shirt fitted around her body. The buttons were undone and Oliver's hand rested where it opened up to reveal her smooth skin beneath. The image of his large tanned hand splayed against her abdomen made her stomach flip and her chest tighten.

She shifted slightly so she could tilt her head up and saw that his eyes were closed and his breathing even and deep.

A flash of waking up with him in his bed just the other morning danced through her mind, and she slammed her eyes shut to ward off sudden rush of emotions.

Her body felt better and she now had full use of all of her muscles, as she purposefully curled her toes against Oliver's leg to make sure. He shifted beneath her, sighing against her hair and she felt a wave of longing rush over her.

She wanted _this_.

Not the being injured part. But the waking up in his arms every morning part.

The pang in her heart at knowing that probably wouldn't happen was almost more than she could bear. While she recalled the intense moments they'd shared in the bathroom the day before, she couldn't bring herself to fully believe that he would want her the way that she wanted him.

Lifting her arms, she brushed a few strands of hair out of her eyes. With the movement, she felt the slickness that clung to her hairline - a thin layer of sweat that seemed to coat her entire body.

The sudden urge to use the bathroom had her attempting to move without hurting herself or waking Oliver.

That proved useless.

Her side protested the moment she began to use those muscles to sit up. Her low hiss woke him with a start and his hands were coming to steady her immediately.

"Felicity?" he said, voice rough with sleep.

"Bathroom," she muttered through gritted teeth as she tried to move again.

Oliver didn't give her time to protest, he simply slipped his arms beneath her and sat up, swinging his feet off the bed before standing and heading for the adjoining room.

Felicity sighed, deciding her body was still too weak to protest so she simply looped her arms around his neck and enjoyed the ride.

He set her down near the toilet, his hands falling to her waist as she grasped for the porcelain counter.

She was afraid he wasn't going to give her any privacy and there was no way she was using the bathroom in front of Oliver Queen.

"I'll be fine," she murmured, giving him a playful shove which did absolutely nothing to move him and was far weaker than she would have liked.

His worried eyes trailed over her for a few moments before standing back, his hands finally falling from her sides. It dawned on her with sudden clarity that he'd been holding her for over twelve hours and now he was looking at her like she was going to disappear the second he let her go.

Finally, he turned and headed for the door, closing it behind him and leaving her alone in the ridiculously lavish bathroom of their suite.

She found her strength returning moment by moment, but after she had washed her hands and was heading for the door on wobbly legs, her legs began to wobble and she started to slip.

She yelped as she grabbed for the edge of the counter and she was prepared to meet the cold tile floor when two strong arms wrapped around her from behind and steadied her.

Sighing, she relaxed into his hold, fingernails digging into his arms creating half-crescent moons in his skin until she regained her equilibrium.

When she could open her eyes without feeling dizzy, she turned slowly in his arms and looked up at him.

The same concerned gaze stared back at her and one of her hands fell to his chest. "I'm okay."

"But you almost weren't."

His the stark fear in his voice caught her by surprise. She let out a ragged breath and nodded in understanding.

"Welcome to what I deal with every night that you go out on a mission," she replied heavily, not realizing how much she'd admitted until it passed her lips and couldn't be recanted.

She felt him hold her closer and it wasn't until his fingers brushed her exposed skin that she recalled her state of dress.

Swallowing, she rested her forehead against his t-shirt clad chest and sighed. "So I assume my new blouse is ruined," she tried to lighten the situation, but she felt him tense beneath her touch.

"DIgg had to remove it to get to your injury," he stated evenly, but her eyes flew to his at the tone of his voice.

Something flashed in his gaze but it was gone before she could place it.

"Thanks for the loner," she replied breathlessly, but in the back of her mind she knew she had no intention of giving it back.

Something like a growl worked it's way through his chest and she stilled when his eyes cut to hers, and she saw that same desire from yesterday staring back at her.

Needing to say something before she leaned up and kissed that look off his face, she cleared her throat nervously. "So how bad is it?"

To his credit, his brow only wrinkled momentarily before he sighed, his fingers moving around to pull back the edge of the white dress shirt, revealing half of her side along with her white cotton bra.

Cheeks flushing, she watched as he gently moved the material out of the way so she could see the bandaged area.

"It was just a graze, but it was enough to get the poison into your system," he said thickly. "There should barely be a scar…"

She smiled hesitantly and reached down to grab the hand that was tracing lightly around the bandage. The sensations it was causing were more than she could handle and she needed to stop him.

"Stitches?" she asked hoarsely.

When he shook his head, she nodded and glanced sideways towards the jacuzzi tub.

"I don't suppose I can take a nice, long bath like yesterday?" she mused, "I feel like I've run a marathon."

"That was your body trying to get the poison out," he explained, and followed her gaze to the tub, but she didn't miss the slight darkening of his eyes.

"As long as you don't stay in too long," he said, "You should be able to take a bath. I'll put a new bandage on it for you afterward."

She smiled up at him in relief, "Yes. Music to my ears."

As she started for the tub, she felt his hands tighten around her before letting her go completely. About three steps away from him, she felt herself wobble and he was there, his hand cupping her elbow.

"Easy," he murmured, and she sighed.

"This isn't going to be as easy as I thought it was, is it?" she asked, not expecting a reply.

He shifted behind her, and reached across turning on the water and the jets. "I'll help you."

His words caused her heart to skip a beat and she froze. Images of Oliver undressing her - his hands washing her and soothing away the aches and pains, pulling feelings of pleasure from her - ran through her mind. Trying to steady herself, she drew in a deep breath, but she could feel Oliver's hands on her shoulders guiding her and the heat from his skin burned through the thin linen of his dress shirt.

"I'll turn around, Felicity," he finally stated, and she heard the note of teasing in his voice.

It didn't stop the butterflies as she felt him turn behind her.

With shaking hands, she let the shirt fall from her shoulders, catching it before it could hit the floor and placing it on the edge of the tub. She skimmed out of her panties and then her bra, letting those land in a pile on the floor and kicking them to the side.

Knowing Oliver was only feet away from her while she stood naked caused a thrill to travel through her, and she had to bite down on her lip to keep from letting out a soft groan.

Slowly, she peeled the bandage away from her wound, noting the bright angry edges of the three-inch tear in her skin. She winced as she pulled the last of the tape holding it down from her side and let out a shaky breath.

Looking down at the bloody bandage, she glanced around for the trashcan, her eyes trailing over Oliver as she did and she immediately noticed his stiff posture. Both of his hands were balled into fists at his side and she followed the tense set of his shoulders to his head and beyond.

She gasped when her eyes landed on the mirror directly in front of him, the air thickening around them. His eyes were squeezed shut and she could tell the fight he was waging with his control.

At the noise, his eyes flew open, worry filling them before they locked with hers in the mirror.

The bandage fell forgotten from her fingers and her chest rose and fell rapidly as she watched his eyes darken until she could barely see the blue of his irises. Desire rose quickly within her, mirroring the expression in his own gaze.

His name fell from her lips, and she barely had a moment to register what was happening before he turned and took one step forward, his body encasing hers, careful of her injury as he pulled her flush against him. He leaned down, his mouth hovering over hers, lips barely brushing as their labored breaths mingled.

His eyes traveled over her face, taking in everything. Then his mouth slanted over hers and she was lost to the ocean that was Oliver.

One of his hands delved through her hair, landing on the nape of her neck and tilting her head head up while the other curved around her bare back and splayed across the gentle curve where it dipped.

She kept the arm of her wounded side planted firmly on his chest, but the other rose and wound around his neck, fingertips carding through the soft strands of his short hair.

The kiss was gentle yet firm and demanding. He kissed her like she was going to disappear and he wanted to memorize every single piece of her before that happened. His tongue ran across her bottom lip and she gasped allowing him access as it dipped inside and tangled with hers.

When Oliver pulled back, her chest heaved as she gulped in oxygen. He rested his forehead against hers and she fought to get control over the emotions that his kiss had sparked to life inside her.

His hand trailed up and down her bare back, dancing across the ridges of her spine as hers trailed over the hard planes of his muscles.

"I thought I'd lost you," he whispered brokenly against her lips, and her eyes slid shut.

"You didn't," she replied softly. "Is that what this is? You trying to convince yourself I'm alive?"

Her uncertainty of his true reasons and feelings were making themselves known and she had to know before she let herself start to hope.

"No," he said immediately. "This is me trying to tell you how I feel."

Felicity could see him struggling with his words but she needed to hear him say it.

"And that would be?" she asked softly, her voice wavering despite her attempts to keep it steady.

He sighed and leaned forward, pressing his lips to hers once more. This kiss was soft and gentle and tantalizingly slow. It left her gasping for breath but in a completely different way than the first.

"_Words_, Oliver…" she somehow managed to murmur trying not to smile and failing as she glanced up at him, and saw the twinkle in his eyes.

"I can't lose you," he finally said, expression turning serious as the hand in her hair moved around and cupped her cheek.

His thumb swiped over her lower lip and she felt her body react instantaneously. "I can't lose you because I didn't expect you. I didn't expect you to make me feel like this - to want to live for the first time in years. But I do. When you look at me, I don't feel like a damaged person. I feel like I could be whole again. Not today or tomorrow, but maybe someday. You give me hope, Felicity."

Tears sprung to her eyes and she couldn't keep them from falling. Using the arm still wrapped around his neck, she pulled herself up and kissed him, her teeth nipping at his lips and then trailing down over his stubble.

The rumble that escaped from his chest went straight to her core and it occurred to her for the first time since she'd found his gaze in the mirror that she was very naked.

"Trust me, I've noticed," she heard him say and realized she'd said that last thought out loud.

She buried her face in his shirt, the flush creeping up her chest to her neck.

Playfully, she swatted him.

"Come on," he murmured, "Let's get you that bath you wanted so badly."

She squeaked as he scooped her up in strong arms and walked her back towards the tub.

She hissed as her wound was submersed in water, and he stopped, holding her close until the stinging ebbed and then continued, not pulling back until she was situated.

His hands trailed up and over her body, fingertips leaving trails of heat along the tops of her thighs and over her shoulders and down her back.

The tiny sounds emitted from her throat would have embarrassed her if she hadn't been so preoccupied by Oliver's ministrations. She tilted her head back and leaned in against the crook of his shoulder, both hands splayed wide across her abdomen.

He pressed a kiss to her temple as she let the warm water soak into her aching muscles. She thought about asking him to join her but knew that if he did, there would be a good chance she wouldn't be resting like she was sure Digg had ordered.

So for now, she let Oliver wash her, his touch as healing as any medicine.

She didn't realize she had started to doze off until she felt herself being lifted from the water and held against a warm chest. Her eyes fluttered open and she yawned an apology.

Oliver quickly hushed her, grabbing one of the towels and wrapping it around her, drying her off before scooping her back into his arms. He carried her back into his room, laying her gently on the bed while he disappeared back into the bathroom, only to return with underwear and the first aid supplies.

She shimmied into the panties, surprised to not be blushing that Oliver Queen had just brought her underwear, while he waited and then he motioned for her to turn so he could see her wound.

Carefully, he cleaned and bandaged it again, his fingers dancing along the edges of the gauze before he raised his eyes to meet her gaze. Without hesitation, she reached for him and he leaned down, kissing her softly.

It was her turn to explore, her fingers tracking a trail from his shoulders to the hem of his shirt and slipping beneath. Her hands skimmed across the plains and ridges of his muscles, feeling them tighten and jump under her touch. She tugged lightly and he took the hint, pulling the shirt off his head and tossing it to the bed.

Pulling back, her eyes trailed over the expanse of skin she knew like the back of her hand but never had a chance to touch. Fingertips trailed over all of the scars she could reach and the skin in between, holding his gaze while she did and letting him know that she didn't see him as damaged but beautiful.

When her side began to protest the movement, she pulled back trying to hide the wince and failed. Oliver moved and the cool air that hit her body reminded her that she only wore a pair of underwear. Glancing to the side, she grabbed Oliver's discarded t-shirt and began to slip it on as best she could using one arm.

His hands reached out and helped her ease it over her head and she smiled at him gratefully, surprised by the slight darkening of his eyes as he regarded her once more.

Picking her up, he moved her to the middle of the bed and slid in beside her. Without hesitation, she shifted so she was laying on her uninjured side, her head pillowed on his chest. One strong arm banded about her waist as he covered the hand that laid on his stomach.

Her eyelids were already drooping when he pressed a kiss to her hair, and murmured something in Russian.

Later, she'd ask him what it meant. For now, she let herself drift to sleep safe in his arms, with hope for the future.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: **Wow, thank you so much for all your support and love for this story! It's made my welcome to a wonderful one! I love all the comments about this being their favorite bathroom. Here is the inspiration for the bathroom: BATHROOM Here's the last chapter of this fic! I really enjoyed writing this one and I'm so thrilled that so many people have enjoyed it! Thank you for the follows and favorites and comments! They mean so much! You are all wonderful!

They stayed wrapped in each other's arms for the next day, neither caring about the outside world, not due back in Starling CIty until after the weekend.

Diggle had checked in on her a few times - the first of which was slightly awkward considering she could tell he knew what had happened from the look on his face. But in true Diggle fashion, he simply raised his eyebrows, sent a glare of warning to Oliver and a look to Felicity to make sure she knew was she was doing, and let them be.

Felicity had seen the way he looked at Lyla and knew she and Oliver weren't the only ones spending time holed up in their hotel room.

The next morning, she woke in Oliver's arms for the third day in a row, and she'd made the decision that this is how she wanted to wake up every day; strong arms encasing her, the gentle rise and fall of his chest beneath her head, limbs tangled together.

She'd kissed across his chest, feeling better than she had in days. Her fingers traced the outline of his Bratva tattoo and then let her lips follow the same path. He stirred beneath her, a low rumble emanating from his chest as his hands gripped her hips and held her tight.

When she lifted her head from where she'd made her way to the waistband of his pants and the muscles pulled taut over his hips, his eyes were staring at her, flashing with desire. She grinned up at him and then felt herself being swiftly pulled upwards so her lips met his and she was quickly flipped beneath him.

A few hours later, after making good use of the jacuzzi for the last time, she emerged from the bedroom to find Oliver standing at the door, talking to one of the managers. In the front room was a rack of dresses, and her eyes flew to Oliver's when the door shut behind him.

"What is this?" she asked, wrapping his dress shirt tighter around her, thankful she'd stayed out of sight when she remembered that it was still all she wore.

He smiled as he crossed to her, but she could also see the slight apprehension in his eyes.

"I know that dress was one of your favorites, I wanted to replace it…"

Her heart fluttered when she realized he was talking about the blue dress she'd worn the other night when they'd went to meet with the Bratva. She shivered involuntarily as thoughts of those men's hands on her body and their intentions.

Two strong arms wrapped around her from behind as he pressed a kiss against her neck; his stubble scraping over her skin.

She sank back into him and her body immediately relaxed, knowing she was safe.

"Oliver, you don't have to do this…" she began, her hands falling over his wrists and holding tightly. "It's too much…"

She felt him shake his head and press a kiss to her shoulder, "I want to do this for you."

Turning in his arms, she looped her arms around his neck, looking up at him, and she was still amazed that she could do all of this - touch him and lean up to kiss him if she wanted, which she did.

She meant for it to be a short chaste kiss, but his lips were a like a drug, and before she knew it, she was nipping at his lower lip as he growled and pulled her closer, hands roving down to her thighs to hike her up against him.

Her back hit a wall a few seconds later, and his hands shifted up and under the dress shirt. She gasped, throwing her head back as his calloused fingers roved over her body.

"You are distracting," she murmured, and he laughed against her throat, his lips laving her skin with a kiss before leaning back to look up at her with darkened eyes.

The full smile on his face was a thing of beauty and she couldn't help tracing his lips with her fingers, and then replacing her fingers with her mouth.

"I love seeing you like this," she murmured when she pulled back much to his displeasure.

"Like what?" he asked, still smiling, blue eyes twinkling.

"Happy," she confessed, her hands cupping his face.

A shuddering sigh left his body, and he turned his face into one of her hands, pressing a kiss against the center of her palm.

"You asked me if I had any happy stories," he finally whispered, his eyes turning serious.

Felicity nodded, remembering the night well. The anguish she'd seen etched into every facet of his face was almost too much to bear. She'd wanted to take all that pain away from him - wanted him to have all the happy stories he deserved.

One large hand trailed up from her side, tracing the edge of her bandage - a pained look flicking through his eyes - and then fingering the collar of the shirt she wore before moving up her neck. His thumb slid along her jaw line as his eyes flicked up to meet hers.

So many emotions flickered through his cerulean blue eyes, and she drank each and every one of them in, wanting to know everything he was feeling.

"When I came back from the island, I didn't think I deserved any happy stories; I wasn't sure I even knew what the word 'happy' meant anymore," he confessed quietly and she swallowed against the emotions that were rising within her.

"I didn't realize it when I met you," he continued, his thumb rubbing back and forth beneath her bottom lip. "But I see it now."

Her brow furrowed, her heart beating rapidly in her chest as she began to piece together what he was saying.

"_You_," he breathed, "Felicity Smoak, you are my happy story."

Her breath caught in her throat, and tears gathered in her eyes as she stared down at him from where he held her - bracing her - against the wall, her legs wound around his body, her fingers unconsciously scrubbing over the stubble on his jaw.

"Oliver," she finally choked out, and it was all she managed before his lips covered hers and she was lost to him once more. This kiss was soft and slow, their tongues exploring together in a long, languid dance until they had to break away for air.

She rested her forehead against his as they both tried to catch their breath.

When his head shifted and fell to her neck, she sifted her fingers through his hair and held him to her tightly.

Her heart felt light and free and full and she knew it was because of the man she held in her arms.

"So will you let me buy you a dress?" he finally whispered, and she let out a loud chuckle having completely forgotten about the rack of clothes that still sat in the entryway.

He nuzzled her neck and she could feel the smile against her throat. "I suppose so."

"Good," he muttered as he pressed a kiss to her collarbone. "I can't wait to help you try them on."

She laughed again. "If you do that we're never going to make our flight."

He pulled back and arched an eyebrow, "I own the plane, it doesn't leave until I want it to."

"Oliver," she chastised breathlessly as he bit down on her collarbone and she knew she'd have a hickey there. "You have meetings tomorrow morning and if we don't leave on time we aren't going to get any sleep…and don't say you don't care because Ms. Rochev and you have a meeting with some important investors and you need to be…"

His lips cut off her ramble and she decided this was a technique she wouldn't mind to stop her rambles. Oliver moaned when her fingernails raked through his hair.

They broke away breathless and it was only Oliver's phone ringing that kept them from forgetting the dresses completely.

He groaned, but she shoved him in the direction of the offending device as she moved towards the dresses on slightly shaky legs.

It was Digg with their flight details and when Oliver returned, she'd already slipped into one of the beautiful blue dresses that brought out the color of her eyes.

Oliver was no help in the decisions as she could see how much he liked every dress, his eyes raking over her.

She settled on one with swirls of blue and dark green, a square cut-out in the fabric over her shoulder blades that Oliver seemed to especially like as his hands kept landing there as she tried to pack.

There were no price tags and she didn't ask. He'd asked to do this for her and she couldn't deny him it this time. not when she knew the guilt he still held over the Bratva incident and the fear in his eyes every time his hands ghosted over the bandage at her side.

It was time to leave before she knew it and as they left the suite, she couldn't help but turn around and give it one last look. So much had happened there; so much had changed.

She tried to ignore the flutter of apprehension that rose in her stomach at the idea of leaving this place where everything had changed and returning to their normal lives.

Shaking her head, she took a deep breath and pushed her fears to the back of her mind as Oliver slipped a hand around her waist and gave her an encouraging smile.

The closer they got to Starling City, the more nervous she became. Oliver's hand landed solidly on her knee and she realized she'd been bouncing it up and down as she bit her lip.

"What wrong?" he asked, leaning towards her, his fingers tracing circles against her inner thigh.

The sensations he was drawing from her with that simple touch had her swallowing thickly before she could reply.

She glanced out the window, still able to see nothing but clouds and every now and then glimpses of blue sea.

With a shaky sigh, she turned to face him. "It's just...when you were talking to the Moscow executives, you joked about how what happens in Russia stays in Russia...and, well, I know things were intense and you thought you were going to lose me…" She took a breath because the words were not coming out like she wanted them to and she could see the crease forming in his brow. "Does that go for us too? Not that there's an official us, but there was definitely an us that night and well, really the next whole day and then this morning…"

She felt her cheeks flushing with the memories, and swallowed hard again. "What happened between us...does that stay in Russia?"

The words escaped her with a rush of air and she fixed her eyes on the fine-printed fabric of her new dress, unable to look at Oliver for fear of what she would see in his eyes.

Her fingers twisted in the fabric, heart pounding furiously in her chest.

She knew what he'd said after she'd been shot and then this morning - the honesty in his eyes and the promises he'd made, and it wasn't that she didn't believe him. It was just that - now they were headed back to reality. Starling City. The company. His family. Everything.

And she couldn't help wondering if he'd re-think it once they were in the middle of all of that again.

Calloused fingers slipped beneath her chin and slid against her jaw, coaxing her head up. She was met with dark blue eyes, so clear and open that her breath caught in her throat.

"No," he said with confidence, leaving no room for doubt. "In this case, what happens in Russia most definitely does not stay in Russia."

And then his eyes shifted and there was a flash of uncertainty so uncharacteristic of Oliver that she wasn't sure she'd actually seen it until he spoke again. "Unless you want it to…"

LIfting up in her seat, she didn't let him finish that thought, pressing her lips to his mouth while her fingers wrapped around the wrist of his hand that was still cupping her jaw.

His tongue darted out and swiped along her lower lip and she gasped, and could feel his grin as he deepened the kiss. Her free hand wound up around his neck and into his hair, tugging gently at the soft strands as she got lost in him.

When she finally pulled away, she couldn't keep the smile off her face. "No," she said in between gulps of air, "I don't want it to stay there."

The smile that lifted his lips upward made her heart flutter and she was once again amazed by what this man could make her feel.

"Good," he said, pulling her into his chest, as she tucked her legs up underneath her, glad for the freedom she had to move with the large seats and no arm rest.

His lips settled against her temple and she sighed happily.

"You should speak in Russian more often," she commented softly, the thought floating unbidden to her mind and what little filter she had lost somewhere in the haze of Oliver's kiss.

"And why is that?" he asked, and she heard the smile in his voice.

Lifting her head, she raised half-lidded eyes to his. "It's very seductive, Mr. Queen," she replied with a grin of her own.

She watched, amazed as his eyes darkened to almost black and his hand tightened around her waist.

"Is that so?" he murmured, the timbre of his voice dropping and sending a thrill through her.

She bit her lip and nodded, never taking her eyes from his.

He let out a low groan that turned into a growl as his lips descended on hers once more, pulling her flush against his chest, hands delving into her hair and then trailing down her sides to the hem of her dress and snaking underneath.

She gasped when a calloused hand gripped her thigh and began trailing circles upward.

He pulled back, nipping on her bottom lip and she was sure her heart was going to beat out of her chest, every nerve ending in her body on fire from his touch and kiss.

A slow smile spread across his face and then he leaned forward, his stubble scratching against her cheek as his lips latched onto her earlobe.

He whispered words she couldn't understand against her ear, but she didn't have know their meaning to feel their intent as her belly swooped and heat pooled low between her legs.

A low moaning gasp fell from her lips, and his hand started to inch upward along her leg until she was panting against his neck.

"Oliver." Her voice was deep and thick with desire and she felt his chest rumble beneath her and knew he was not unaffected by her voice either.

Just when she thought she couldn't take anymore, the pilot came over the speakers and Felicity flew backwards.

Oliver tightened his hold on her and kept her against his chest as the pilot announced their descent into Starling City, asking them to please buckle their seatbelts.

With a groan, Oliver slid his hand out from under her skirt and straightened it before reaching over her. His fingers skimmed over her stomach as he did, making her gasp again as he pulled the seatbelt around and buckled it for her.

The thrumming in her ears began to subside and she let out a long breath as Oliver tugged her back against him as much as the belts would allow.

She felt the elevated state of his own heartbeat and smiled against his neck, as he leaned his head down.

"Definitely not staying in Russia…"


End file.
